An Italian Winter
by Raum
Summary: COMPLETE - Edward's rebellion began for a reason; it still holds true and brought him to Italy. His life's been predicated on revenge for decades; forgiveness seems impossible. When he meets Bella, only a winter separates him from his last prey and his own destruction. AU/vampires.
1. Earbuds

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: The characters of _Twilight_ are owned by Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

**Summary**: "There was a reason behind Edward's rebellious period – a reason that still holds true and brought him to Italy. His existence has been predicated on revenge for decades, to the point that forgiveness seems impossible. When Edward meets Bella, only a winter separates him from his last human prey and his own destruction." AU-Vamp

Here we go. Edward's POV. A literary suggestion at the end of each chapter. If you are interested in twific recs, you can find plenty of them on http:/ myreadinglounge. blogspot. com. Here I'll try to suggest something different. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Earbuds<strong>

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><p>Thursday, January 18, 2007<p>

Even without looking at the clock, the clatter of my neighbors' dishes and cups signaled that morning had come. My hearing could pick up all the sounds from the surrounding apartments, through the thin walls. It was breakfast time–for the humans, that was. My last meal had been a couple days ago and, unlike my neighbors' food, mine had fur.

"Good morning, sweetie!" Jake's cheerful voice from the next building was the first to intrude. Better than a rooster.

His roommate mumbled something inarticulate. For the umpteenth time, I tried to read her mind. Nothing. Her voice wasn't connected to any stream of thought–like listening to a song _a__ cappella_. Not that it mattered: I had already listened to so many people's musings that one less couldn't make a difference. I had heard enough for a lifetime–especially _my_ lifetime.

I heard her clear her throat. "Morning, Jake...wish it was a good one," she slurred.

A glance at the clock told me it was seven sharp. Was it too early for a human to function properly? I listened to them for a bit longer. After all, for the first time in my vampire existence, I didn't live–no pun intended–in the woods. I actually had some neighbors. Why not pry into their everyday conversations for a short while?

"Bad night?" Jake guessed.

"You said it! I like staying here, but I'm going to kill your neighbor if he doesn't switch off that damn music at night."

Who was she talking about? I had played the piano last night, but I hadn't thought that anyone was listening to me.

"Again? I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Jake. But how can you sleep at night? Don't you hear it?"

"Not at all," he answered. His thoughts told me that he was almost smug about being such a heavy sleeper.

There was no doubt that the boy had slept. He snored so much that could have woken up everyone in the neighborhood. His snores were louder than any music.

"But the other times you said it was classical music. Shouldn't it be able to lull you into a peaceful sleep?" he suggested.

Classical music? Were they actually talking about me?

The girl snorted. "You know I've got nothing against classical music–I even like it. I just don't want to hear it when I'm trying to sleep! It was something ridiculously Wagnerian yesterday. He must be crazy to listen to that stuff in the middle of the night," she continued.

It couldn't be me. I had played Mozart last night. How could she mistake him for Wagner?

"Or maybe he's a deaf insomniac," Jake joked.

I chuckled. If they were talking about me, I was an insomniac indeed. But definitely not deaf.

"If these night concerts don't stop, I'll set his damn stereo on fire!" she threatened.

Stereo? So she was talking about someone listening to a concert? I hadn't paid enough attention to the other neighbors, but I didn't recall any stereo playing last night.

"I've heard the house has been rented by an American man who's always by himself. Do you want me to go and speak to him?" Jake offered.

"Change your mind, boy," I muttered under my breath. "I'm not very friendly."

"No, not at all, really..." she answered. "I don't want to bother you. I'll go over there tonight and take care of it, okay? If I'm not too tired, that is. I'll be polite, I promise!"

Was I going to get a visit from the girl with the silent mind?

On the other hand, the thoughts of her roommate weren't silent at all. He was concerned for her. Bits of memories flickered in his mind like a movie. Through his eyes I saw the girl crying, and figured out that it must have been something that had happened often. Some of his thoughts showed her during the day, some at night. A man–a policeman–was soothing and holding her. Was he her father, perhaps? Jake was with them, talking with her, trying to convince her to go out for a walk.

His voice went lower. "Sweetie, the reason why you don't sleep...is it always the same?"

She didn't answer, but I heard her rushing out of the room. "Gotta go, Jake. Have a good day!" she told him.

His thoughts changed again. The mystery about the insomniac girl would remain unsolved, at least for today. I blocked them out: they had their work, their worries, and their life. I had my chase to focus on. I went back to my research, as if I was just another dutiful human and not a merciless killer.

The only interruption of my day came in the form of a knock on the door in the late afternoon. The neighborhood was buzzing with people's thoughts, and I was doing my best to block them out. Walking at a human pace, I went to answer the door.

"Who's there?" I asked, to no avail.

No thoughts were coming from outside. My suspicions were confirmed when I opened the door: there stood the girl with the silent mind. She was so lost in her own musings that she hadn't even noticed me.

"Hello. May I help you?" I asked, trying to be polite.

She blinked a couple of times. Her heartbeat was increasing and her embarrassment enhanced her scent. She smelled like orange blossom with a hint of mint. I closed my eyes. Her blood sang of a summer day in the pinewoods by the sea, a light breeze gliding through the branches.

I needed to take my mind off it; otherwise, the girl wouldn't see another summer.

"Miss? May I help you?"

"Are you Mr. Masen?" she managed to stutter.

I nodded. "I am."

"I'm your neighbor," she went on.

As if I didn't know it. So, this was _sweetie_ in the flesh: medium-height, slim, with long chestnut hair that hung loosely on her shoulders and framed the alabaster skin of her face. A fine young woman. She didn't have any make-up on. With her tight blue jeans and a black short coat under which a green tartan scarf peeked out, she appeared to be younger than I had imagined. She couldn't have been older than her early twenties.

I smiled, trying to reassure her.

But she didn't smile back at me. "I've got a present for you!" she blurted.

A present? She was surprising, indeed.

Was I supposed to invite her in? I was barefoot, wearing just a white t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. I ran a hand over my hair, trying to smooth it over. I looked like I had just rolled out of bed...or had done other things that involved a mattress.

"I can come back later. I'm afraid I arrived at a bad moment," she said worriedly.

"Please, come in," I urged.

From what I had heard, she had lived in Jake's apartment for some months. So, why in the hell had she suddenly decided to bring me a present _now_?I laughed to myself.

As she entered my home she glanced at the foyer, but suddenly became very interested in her shoes. _She's a shy one, isn't she?_ I silently mused.

She looked around what would normally have been called a family room, if I had had a family. I was sure that to her it appeared too empty, but leaving the house devoid of silly human trinkets made me feel less bound to their mundane form of existence.

She handed me a small package. I ripped off the gift wrapping and frowned. It wasn't the typical gift for a neighbor.

"Earbuds?" I asked.

"Yes. I know that you like music and seem particularly fond of piano music. In this way, you will be able to enjoy it all by yourself, or at least without me. You know, some people sleep during the night, or try to," she said in a rush.

I stifled a laugh. Were the earbuds for my _stereo_? Come on, what stereo? Hadn't she noticed the black baby grand piano in the living room?

She looked around herself. _Here __we __are_. I could pinpoint the very moment when realization dawned on her. Although I couldn't read her mind, I could read her face: the piano...the source of the music...the absurdity of the earbuds she had just given me.

"Err... I thought that you..." she tried to explain.

She was very funny in her embarrassment, but I was kind enough to let her off the hook.

"I understand, and I owe you an apology. I didn't notice it was so late when I played, and I didn't know I had an audience." I couldn't help a smug grin. "But, since you heard what I was playing, can you at least tell me if you liked it?"

"I didn't think it polite to listen," she spat, glaring at me.

The laugh I had been holding in erupted. She narrowed her eyes at me and stiffened, her lips pursed in a tight line. Her cheeks became a pinkish shade. She was fuming, but I found her lovely.

"Goodbye, then. I suppose you got my message," she said coldly.

My grin faded. I didn't want to have fun at her expense anymore. After all, I still had some manners. "May I offer you something to drink before you go?"

She was still sullen. "No thanks, I'm fine."

I decided to use the lower, reassuring tone I reserved for putting humans at ease, curious to see how it worked on her. "May I ask your name before you go back to your dreams?"

Her expression softened, but not as much as I was expecting. I quirked an eyebrow. Could she resist my magic?

"Sorry," she apologized. "I realize I haven't introduced myself. I'm Isabella."

Her name was a surprise. Her roommate had called her Bella or "sweetie." I had never heard this _Isabella_. Regardless, I tried to behave and be serious and polite.

"Nice to meet you, Isabella. I'm Edward."

Finally, she gave me a full smile. She had beautiful lips, well-defined and with a slight lift of the upper corners, but it was her gaze that struck me. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown, with golden flecks that shimmered as she looked at me. I would have liked to bask in the softness of her expression, but I didn't have enough time. She mumbled a goodbye and quickly walked away.

I stood in the foyer, disconcerted, staring at the door. Then I paced nervously into the living room, taking deep breaths. I inhaled Bella's scent as much as I could, as to be sure that her presence there had been real: for the first time since I had purchased my house, a human had entered it. For the first time in years, I had spoken with a human out of desire, not necessity.

I ended up in the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. I couldn't tell how much it was a remnant of a human habit; regardless, it was a good way to weaken Bella's scent on me before the desire it elicited became too powerful. My reflection in the mirror showed that any trace of red– a memento of the last human I had killed just a few weeks before–was almost gone. My irises were an odd orange shade that could almost pass for a more human, light brown color. As if there was something human in me.

From my living room, I looked at the apartment building where Isabella lived. The light in my favorite neighbor's room was on, but I didn't hear anything coming from her apartment; no thoughts and no voices. It seemed that Jake wasn't at home, meaning there were no conversations for them and no entertainment for me. I was disappointed.

I switched off the light and, hidden in the darkness, I stared at Bella's window. Her delicious scent still lingered in my house.

The control I had acquired during all those years when I had fed from animals had proven to be steely as usual. I was almost proud to acknowledge how strong I could be in my restraint, even faced with a scent like hers. It had been a blessing for my nice neighbor; regardless, it was a curse for me. I could confirm that I hadn't any ungovernable instinct to blame for the human lives I had taken.

Isabella was never going to know how lucky she had been. I had even tried to make her stay longer, offering her a drink, just to enjoy her company. In different circumstances, I could have been the one taking a drink.

In the few minutes I had spent with the girl, her mental silence had been pleasantly relaxing.

Finally, I had been able to talk to someone without being forced to know the first mental draft of everything they were going to say. It was like being able to read a book in its final version, while so far I had been forced to read all the drafts, following the entire editing process. _Nice __comparison.__ When__ in __hell __have __you __followed __any__ sort __of __editing __process, __Edward?_

The light went off in Isabella's room. I imagined her curled up in her bed, with the lips that had smiled at me parted as she abandoned herself to her slumber. _Sleep __well_, I wished her.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

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><p><strong>AN**

_A__ cappella_ (Italian for "in the manner of the chapel") indicates a music performed without instrumental accompaniment (vocal only).

"_I __didn't __think __it __polite __to __listen_" is a quote from _The __Importance __of __Being __Earnest_ by Oscar Wilde. If you haven't read it, what are you waiting for?

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**)

On **h t t p ****: ****/ ****/ ****myreadinglounge. ****blogspot.**** com/** you can find twific recs and reviews, author interviews and story extras. There's also a "Writing Lab" with writing tips and experiences!

Many thanks (and earbuds, LOL) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne Tate**, and **Jmolly**. Thanks also to** Pastiche. Lethe** and **WellMadeMistake** (**Sparkly Red Pen**).


	2. Raindrops

_**An Italian Winter**_

Thank you for your amazing response to the first chapter!

Disclaimer: _Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point. This story is AU, hence some dates diverge from the canon timeline.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 – Raindrops<strong>

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><p>Wednesday, September 24, 1919<p>

Chicago, Illinois

I leaned my hand against the bakery's window. Even lifting my eyes to look at my reflection seemed to require too much effort. A haggard tramp was mirrored in the glass–his pupils wide, his cheeks reddened. I pressed my forehead against the cool window surface, and its contrast against my feverish skin made me shudder. It had been two days, and at first I'd thought it was just a cold. The cough wasn't anything new: it had been my constant companion since I'd ended up on the streets. But then my sight began to blur. Walking on the street felt like trudging through sand.

The bakery's door opened, sending a heavenly scent in my direction. My mouth watered as I saw a loaf of fresh-baked bread. It had been two days–and counting–since I'd put something in my belly. I swallowed, wincing as the movement made my throat ache.

I took a step toward the old lady who was holding the loaf, ready to reach out and beg her for a morsel of bread or a few coins. With a surprising agility for a woman her age, she recoiled. I retreated, and out of instinct I raised an arm, as if I bracing for a blow. Her look of disgust hit me harder than a slap. I bowed my head in a silent apology and shuffled away.

By twilight, I still hadn't eaten anything. But at that point, I wouldn't have been able to. The lump in my throat had become a scorching fire that wrapped me in a heavy blanket of pain. I limped along the streets until I had to lean against a wall to steady myself. When a loose stone brought me down on my knees, I curled up on the ground and gave up the fight.

_Tomorrow_, I told myself. _I'll __sleep__ and__ tomorrow__ I__ swear__ I'll__ find __something__ to __eat. __If __I __could __just __get__ some__ coins..._

Thoughts of a cup of hot milk were lulling me into a slumber.

_Tomorrow_, I thought again. Little did I know that on the following day I'd wake up in a hospital bed.

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><p>Thursday, January 25, 2007<p>

"_Still __crazy __after __all __these __years..._" I sang along with Paul Simon, following the music on the car radio on my way home from a nightly drive. After all these years–surely so many more than Paul's–I would have never imagined that I could be pleasantly surprised and intrigued by a human.

In the last week, every further attempt to catch a glimpse of Isabella's thoughts had failed. Defeated, I had concluded that her mind was completely closed to me. _If__ Carlisle __knew..._

I recoiled from that idea. I was aware that my maker would have been eager to examine the strangeness of my connection to Isabella, or lack thereof. He would have studied, picked apart and made the oddity of her silent mind reveal its secrets. But he couldn't. Carlisle was lost to me.

I'd also fantasized about tasting Isabella's blood, I had to admit. It would have been like waking up at night with a high fever and drinking cold water, with the tap in my mouth. But I wasn't going to harm her. I had vowed that I wouldn't drink from a human again until I'd taken my revenge. The restraint made the wait even more exciting.

The image of a scolding governess resurfaced from my insufficiently-blurred human memories. I recalled how she had reprimanded me. _Don't __play __with __your __food, __Edward!_

_I'm__ going __to __break __this __rule,_ I silently mocked. _Feel __free __to __turn __in __your __grave, __Miss._

Raindrops began to fall on my windshield, interrupting the short reminiscence. In a matter of seconds, it was pouring. "_I'm__ not __the __kind __of __man __who __tends __to __socialize_," Paul Simon continued to sing. I chuckled. "Nor am I," I said to myself. Assuming that I could be considered _a __kind __of __man_.

Before meeting Isabella, I hadn't bothered to find out who lived in my neighborhood. Choosing the only detached house in a residential quarter of a small town had been a fairly good way to guard my privacy. Anyway, it was going to be a temporary accommodation. Just a few months more in Italy and then...

It wasn't something I had to consider at the moment.

Following the tapping of the rain, my fingers began to drum on the steering wheel. The notes of a new melody formed in my mind. I couldn't believe that I'd actually given up playing the piano at night because of Isabella's request, but it was better to avoid too much attention, as usual. She hadn't seemed very angry, but if my music was bothering her, it could be the same for other neighbors, and I didn't want to garner complaints. I could behave myself and meet her requirement, especially since she had been so entertaining with her earbuds idea. _So, __she __has __heard __me__ playing. _I gave a small laugh, recalling the way my shy neighbor had arrived at my door.

_And __I've __heard __her __screaming_. Isabella claimed that it was my music that kept her from sleeping at night, but I had noticed that she awoke constantly, screaming a man's name. Her anguished wails pierced the night and sounded so distressed, they couldn't be the cries of a lover. _Mike__–_that was the name she yelled. As far as I knew, Isabella lived with that guy Jake and screamed the name of another man at night. I felt compelled to discover more. The mystery she represented could provide a nice distraction during the time I was spending in town.

I glanced at the sidewalk and smiled. "Look at who we have here," I murmured to myself.

Isabella was pacing back and forth in front of the bus stop. While humans were probably enjoying a cup of coffee to start their day, I could enjoy her aroma, even without indulging. I pulled the car over, careful to avoid splashing her with the mud puddles.

"Hi!" I called. Like the first time I'd met her, she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear me. What was going on in her mind that always had her so distracted? I wondered if it was possible that the only mind I couldn't read was the most interesting in the world.

"Isabella!" I tried again, louder.

As soon as she recognized me, she did exactly what I was expecting her to do. Her soft blush brought a nice note of color into my gray morning. She waved at me, and approached the car. The little umbrella she was holding hadn't sheltered her very much from the heavy rain. Water was already dripping into her long dark hair, making her shiver with the chill.

"Good morning! What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Waiting for the bus. But it's late, and I have a test today," she complained.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride," I offered.

She hesitated. "It would be very kind, but don't go to any trouble, really..."

I smiled at her. "It would be my pleasure," I insisted.

Would it? Since when was I going out of my way to help a human? My smile grew wider when she accepted my offer and entered the car.

"Thank you, Edward," she said softly.

I didn't expect her to have remembered my name. Hearing it on her lips pleased me, but even more than that, I enjoyed the chance to smell her scent again. It had to be better than coffee, I would bet. I didn't allow myself more than a quick breath of it, though. The narrow space of the car made it more concentrated, almost heady, and I didn't want to push my luck. Or more to the point, _her_ luck.

"Where can I take you?" I asked. I hadn't paid enough attention to the conversations between her and Jake to know exactly what they did for a living. It was better this way; it would have been strange if I had already known where she was heading.

"I'm going to school. I'll give you the directions, okay?"

Wasn't it a bit too early in the morning for classes? But since she had mentioned having a test, I supposed that she wanted to get there in advance. _Good__ girl_. "I know the directions to the university," I assured her. After attending so many colleges during the years I had mingled with humans, I couldn't actually miss being a student. Regardless, I had gone to the city center once and given a cursory look at the local university.

She smiled. "Actually, I'm going to the high school."

I struggled to hide my surprise. _High__ school? _How old was she? I looked at her closely. She was young, but couldn't be _that_ young!

My puzzled glance didn't go unnoticed.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Sure, sure! So, high school it is. Maybe it's better if you give me the directions." I needed to compose myself. How was it possible that she was still attending high school, I wondered. Had something prevented her from graduating in time? Had she been sick, perhaps? I dismissed that course of thought, and focused on the driving.

The directions the girl gave me proved she didn't have any clue how to navigate the one-way roads in the city center. If I were a human driver, we would have been lost in a matter of minutes.

Once I'd figured out the correct route, I tried to resume the conversation. "So, you have a test..."

"Yep," she confirmed. "And thanks to you, I'm not going to be late anymore."

"Are you worried?"

She frowned. "About what?"

Wasn't it obvious? "About the test," I clarified. "I mean, have you studied enough? What's the subject?"

She looked at me with wide eyes, then burst out laughing. "I'm going to the high school and have a test today, but I'm a teacher, Edward, not a student!"

It was my turn to have wide eyes. I was so used to following people's thoughts more than their words, that I'd actually been misunderstood a human the moment I hadn't had the opportunity to rely on my gift.

I joined her laughter. It was a shame that the road to her high school wasn't longer. Isabella was an entertaining diversion from my routine.

She shook her head in disbelief, an amused smile on her lips. "I can't believe you thought I was so young. I'll take it as a compliment."

I took in her features. While she laughed, her deep brown eyes sparkled. At ease and smiling, she didn't seem like the same person I'd met at my house only a few days ago. She was beautiful, indeed, and deserved more compliments than the one I'd paid her only by mistake.

"And what about you?" she asked. "What do you do for a living?"

Maybe it would have been better if the trip were much, much shorter. Suddenly I had to create a façade, and I had to do it very quickly.

I hoped that Isabella hadn't noticed that her question had caught me off guard. _Questions __are__ never__ indiscreet.__ Answers__ sometimes __are_, Oscar Wilde would have said. An idea presented itself.

"I get gifts from beautiful girls," I finally answered.

"I'm afraid I don't get it," she said. "Is that actually your job?"

"Sure," I confirmed, deadpan. "I play the piano at odd hours and put a spell on whoever listens to me," I said in a low voice, shooting her a conspiratorial glance. In a movie, I'd seen a grandfather who did so while he was telling a story to his grandchild.

Isabella grinned at me, appearing intrigued.

I gave a look in the rear-view mirror. I'd suspected that the pull Isabella's blood had on me would have made my irises darken, but thankfully, they were still golden. My eyes could meet hers without being too scary.

"But the spell doesn't work on just anyone," I went on. "Only beautiful women with a noble heart are compelled to bring me a gift." I wanted to tell Isabella a fairytale, but I soon became aware that I couldn't come up with anything but a horror story.

About fifteen years ago, I'd read a story about an empress whose eyes were the color of gold. In the novel, she had an indescribable beauty and appeared much younger than her true age. I wondered, had the writer imagined that her gaze was like mine? But he had written about a good empress, not about a monster.

My inner thoughts were ruining my mood, leaving me sad. So I resumed my joke. "You know, it's a very nice job. Recently I got earbuds!" I teased.

Isabella playfully gaped at me. "Let me guess: you got earbuds from a high school student?"

"With a noble heart, don't forget that, it's the most important detail," I pointed out. Even with my best storyteller voice, I could tell the game had gone as far as it could go.

My smile faded as I thought about the truth. "I'm doing a little research," I admitted, "but that's another story for another time." That time would never come. I was sure that nobody wanted to know what kind of killer I was.

The huge building of the local high school came into view. "We're almost there, Isabella," I announced.

"It's Bella," she corrected me.

"Have you changed your name in the last ten minutes?" I joked.

She chuckled. "People usually just call me Bella."

I knew her roommate called her Bella, but she had introduced herself to me as Isabella. Her nickname was strange, considering its Italian meaning. It was as if she was asking me to call her 'beautiful' – though it definitely fit her.

"People?" I asked.

"I mean friends and relatives," she explained.

I was sure that I wasn't one of her relatives. Was she inviting me to become her friend? "So you want me to call you Bella?"

She nodded. "That would be just fine."

I brought the car to a halt. "Here we are," I murmured. The sad undertone in my voice sounded odd to my ears. "Have a good day, _Bella_."

"You too, Edward, and thanks for the lift."

I smirked at her. "Any time."

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><p>I'd barely spent thirty minutes with Bella, counting our first encounter and the morning drive. But it had been enough time to make me decide to get involved with her. She had forgotten her umbrella in my car, and I had still had time to return it to her at a human pace, but I had hesitated. The wet umbrella below the passenger's seat could provide an excuse to see her again. I was really grasping at straws.<p>

I couldn't have said if it was because of her mental silence, or because I'd spent years in seclusion, but the short morning talk with Bella had been a breath of fresh air. I didn't deserve it. Selfish creature that I was, as soon as she had left my car, I was already greedy for more.

It wasn't long before the foul weather provided another opportunity to see her. By the end of the morning, the rain had resumed its cadence, drumming on the buildings and pavement like tympani–the musical prelude to seeing the umbrella-less girl again.

I didn't know when Isabella's...no, _Bella's_ workday was due to end. From what I had surmised, in Italy high school classes were over around one o' clock in the afternoon. At twelve, I was already in front of her school. Patience wasn't an issue for me.

I wondered if she was planning to get a ride home with someone else–maybe a colleague would drive her home. Anyway, I didn't want to miss the chance to be there for her if she needed me.

From the car I stared at the chatting and colorful crowd of students in the school yard. How many times had I been among them in decades past? I searched their thoughts, looking for a glimpse of Bella. A memory of her showed up in the mind of a male student.

_That __bitch __caught __me_, he thought.

The word "bitch" and an image of Bella in the same mind caught me off guard and sent a wave of anger through me. I followed the rest of his mental conversation. Bella had caught him cheating during the test, and he was complaining about how unfair she was to one of his friends. Suddenly I was in the mood for a human snack. _Behave,__ Edward._

While I got my irritation under control, the student's mind replayed the scene of a very angry Bella sending him to the principal's office. She looked cool and professional, and she didn't seem like the shy young woman I was waiting to see.

The teenagers were swarming away from the schoolyard, and most of the other teachers had already reached their cars. Bella was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if she had finished earlier than I had thought.

Just when I was losing hope, I saw her dashing through the rain. I tapped my horn and waved at her, hoping she would see me immediately, before she got soaked. She ran toward me, and I opened the car door for her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"Get in the car and we'll talk!" I urged, as the rain continued to pelt her.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, once she had taken her seat and closed the car door.

"You left your umbrella in the car, and I didn't want you to get wet because of the rain," I explained.

"But you were sleeping!" she blurted.

I eyed her curiously. What in the hell was she thinking? "Sleeping?"

She let out an embarrassed laugh. "It's a long story."

I grinned at her. "Are you going home?"

She nodded.

"I'll drive you." I grinned mischievously. "It will give me time to listen to your _long_ story."

She sighed in resignation. "I was thinking this morning, that you were coming home after a night out... or... maybe you were working..." she suggested weakly. "I mean since you play the piano at night – or at least you used to – I just imagined that you slept during the day and stayed awake all night," she babbled.

I hadn't spent the morning sleeping. She couldn't know that I hadn't slept for decades. But, in a certain way, I had spent the last hours dreaming– daydreaming about her. Apparently she had also thought about me.

I laughed softly. "I wasn't sleeping. Actually, I haven't slept at all this morning. So, you think that I stay awake at night and sleep during the day?"

"I make you sound like a vampire, don't I?" she asked sheepishly.

The word "vampire" had slipped so naturally from her lips that it made me stare at her. I needed a diversion. "Bella, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

I pointed to her shirt. "How in the world did you get stains all over your clothes like that?"

She looked down. Her open coat displayed a large coffee stain down the front of her shirt. Had she spilled an entire pot? "It's a long story," she mumbled.

I grinned at her discomfort. "I have time, remember?"

She shrugged. "It's not a big deal. A colleague bumped into me and I took a bath in a cup of coffee. Next time, I'll try to drink it and see if it keeps me awake."

"Difficult time taming the wild teenagers?" I guessed.

She laughed. "You could say that! It seems you remember well what everyday high school life is like."

"You can't imagine how true that is," I said softly. Frozen at twenty, I wasn't much older than her students. I shuddered, considering that in another of the many lives I had faked over the years, I could have been one of them. Luckily, these days I was posing as a twenty-five year-old man and not a high school student.

"What do you teach, Bella?" I asked. The more I could make her talk, the less I had to say about me.

"Let's see if you guess," she challenged. Her silent mind didn't allow me to read the answer in her thoughts. With her, I could have a normal conversation, without relying on my talent. I couldn't enjoy her blood, but her company was no less compelling.

"Rocket science, without a doubt," I joked.

She giggled. "Rocket science? In high school? Let's just say that I talk about other people's lives, real or fictional, dead or alive," she hinted. "My students and I travel to the past, as if we've got our own private time machine. I give them windows to look at people, places, and events throughout the world."

I could feel passion in her words. Could it be something we had in common? The appearances I had to keep up, as long as I mingled with humans, made me feel more like a freak–completely distant from them. But when I did something with passion–like when I played the piano–sometimes I suspected that my humanity wasn't completely lost.

It was a shame that I hadn't ever met a teacher like Bella in my school years. Maybe she could have made the purgatory of high school more bearable. But maybe it was just as well. Who could say; I might have killed the other students, just to keep her all to myself.

It was time to solve her mystery. Since she had mentioned other people's lives, I supposed she might teach history or social studies. But she had talked about _fictional _lives. I smiled at her. "Nice to meet you, literature teacher."

She paused and her smile disappeared. "At least that's what I dreamed of doing."

I frowned, not understanding what she was hinting at. It was as if she had suddenly distanced herself. I glanced at the intersection. Turning right, our neighborhood came into view.

She shook herself out of her reverie. "It looks like Jake is home," she observed. Wherever she had gone with her thoughts a moment ago, she was back. "His car is parked on the street."

I already knew that Isabella lived with that guy. But hearing his name on her lips seemed strangely disturbing.

"I suppose you and Jake don't know each other?" she asked.

Of course I didn't know Jake–I didn't know anyone in this town. "I don't think so." My tone was clipped.

"He's my roommate and best friend," she went on. "Do you want to come in? I'll do the introductions."

The fewer people who recognized me, the better. I could make an exception for Isabella, but I didn't want to go too far, at least not immediately. "Thank you, but I can't today," I lied. "I've got some errands to do." Giving her a fake excuse bothered me more than I would have imagined. After all, we could have only a few weeks together, at best. Then I was going to disappear, and I'd become no more than a fading memory for her. Why spoil such a short time with more lies?

She blushed, and I didn't understand why."Oh, of course, I don't want to keep you too long," she explained sheepishly. "You've already gone to a lot of trouble for me today."

I could tell her the truth about that. "Not at all, it's been a pleasure."

"How is your research going?" she asked, out of the blue. She didn't miss a thing.

_If__ you__ only __knew._ Answering her question with something that wasn't a lie, although it couldn't be the whole truth, was like walking on a razor's edge. "Well, it's going...well." My voice sounded unsure.

Isabella surprised me more often than anyone else I'd met. The question about my job was a perfect example. It was a predictable question, but since I couldn't read her thoughts, I hadn't seen it coming.

"Do you think you'll ever tell me what your research is about?" she mused.

I tried not to sound too distant with her, and softened my words with a smile. "As I told you before, it's a story better left for another time."

She nodded, and her smile appeared hopeful. Could it mean that she also wanted us to meet again?

I pulled up to her apartment building, reluctant to let her go.

"Thank you," Bella said softly.

"See you," I told her with a smirk. Was it going to happen as soon as I hoped?

"See you," she echoed, giving me a bright smile.

As she left, jogging toward her front door, I stared after her. Bella's sweet scent was lingering all around me, and I felt almost embraced by her. I wondered if I could enjoy the luxury of having a friend. Could she become my first and only friend?

I considered what friendship with a human–with _this_ human girl–would mean. Could I resist her blood and get to know her better, while not hearing her thoughts? Could I avoid lying to her at the same time? Within a few weeks, my human charade would be over. Perhaps a friendship with Isabella was the best way to finally disengage from a world I'd had no place in for so long...and to say a farewell to the last shreds of humanity I'd wrapped around myself.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks <strong>**for**** reading!**** Reviewers**** get**** a ****little ****gift.**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

A rain of "thank you!" to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne****Tate**, and **Jmolly**. Thanks also to **Pastiche.****Lethe** and **WellMadeMistake** (**Sparkly****Red****Pen**).

"Like waking up at night with high fever and drinking water, with the tap in my mouth" are verses from the poem _I __love __you_ by Nazim Hikmet. Enjoy it!

Edward is listening to _Still __Crazy__ After__ All__ These__ Years_ (1975) by Paul Simon.

The Childlike Empress, who is also called "The Golden-Eyed Commander of Wishes," is one of the main characters of _The__ Neverending__ Story_ by Michael Ende. One of the best novels I have ever read.

Since the story is set in Italy, references to Bella's job will be made according to the Italian school system. If there's anything that you don't understand, feel free to ask. In Italy, high school is divided into first degree (students from 11 to 14 years old, more or less) and secondary degree (students from 14 to 19 years, who must choose their field of specialization). Bella is a teacher at a secondary degree high school.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**)

On **http****:****/****/****myreadinglounge.****blogspot.****com/** you can find twific recs and reviews, author interviews and story extras. There's also a "Writing Lab" with writing tips and experiences!


	3. Crostata

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 – <em>Crostata<em>**

* * *

><p>Friday, January 26, 2007<p>

I put down the book I'd been reading. It was a novel about a doctor who knew he was going to die of an incurable disease soon. He wrote a letter to his son, describing how he'd fallen in love and leaving him a question to consider. A passage had struck me, reminding me of Carlisle. According to the author, good doctors and poets weren't very different. Doctors were at the service of the same humanity that writers celebrated with their art.

In his long career, Carlisle had always done his best to protect every human life, and there had been a time when I'd admired him so much for that quality. I was sure that Carlisle would have appreciated the enthusiastic way Isabella had described her job. I'd even thought that given our passion for literature, Bella and I had something in common.

But I didn't think so anymore.

I had more than one degree in medicine, and appreciated the music of many composers from various walks of life. But I didn't belong to those who made the world better, nor to those who celebrated life. For over a century I'd roamed the Earth, first as a human, and then as a vampire. I'd walked among our two different species, thinking all the while that I didn't belong with either of them. In any case, I'd brought only sorrow to the people I'd met.

My prey came to mind, like ghosts haunting my memory.

In the years since I'd left Carlisle and his coven, or _family_, as they called themselves – indeed as I myself had called us during our time together – I'd sought some kind of excuse to justify why I took human lives. I'd tried to blame my vampire instinct for what I did. But my maker had always told me that killing human beings was not our only option. He believed that no person, human or vampire, was ever compelled to kill, but that it was just one of the possible choices. I finally had to admit that he was right.

I'd believed that by using my mind-reading abilities, I could choose my prey among the scum of the Earth, thereby saving the people those criminals were going to harm. But who was I to play God? When all was said and done, everything came down to choices. Carlisle had taken my choices from me. I was giving him his payback.

"_I __ask__ again__ what __would __you __have __chosen__ if __you__'__d __had __the __chance?_" I read aloud. Those words seemed meant for me. "_Would __you __have__ elected __to __live__ a __short__ span__ on__ Earth_,_ only__ to__ be __wrenched __away __from __it __all, __never__ ever __to __return? __Or __would __you __have __said __no, __thank __you? __You __have __only __these __two __choices. __Those __are __the __rules. __In__ choosing __to __live, __you __also __choose __to__ die_."

The writer couldn't know that, for my kind, our time on Earth wasn't just a_ short __span_. It stretched in front of us like an ocean. Like any other human, I hadn't had the chance of electing to live; like any other vampire I had met, I hadn't had the chance to choose an existence suspended between life and death. But apparently for Carlisle, changing me hadn't been enough. Even when he had the opportunity to let me make my own choices, he had decided in my stead. I cringed at the memory of my farewell to him. Time hadn't dimmed the rage I still felt. No span of time ever would.

I was still lost in my musings when the doorbell rang. The silence that came from the other side of the door told me that unless there was a second mind that could block me, it could only be one person. But why was Isabella at my house? I licked my lips in anticipation, knowing that I would savor her enchanting scent again. But when I took a breath, I detected something else. _Chocolate._

I grinned at her as I opened the door. While she was dressed semi-formally for work when I'd taken her to school, she now wore a nice pair of jeans and a wool sweater and had gathered her hair into a ponytail. She was cute, but the smell of chocolate was overpowering. I looked down at her and the tray she held, which had a still-warm pie balanced on it. I frowned and quirked an eyebrow at her.

"This morning I didn't have to work, and I had some spare time..." she began to explain, answering my unspoken question. "I wanted to thank you for the lift to school and back. You've been very kind and helped me a lot." She gave me a tentative smile, holding up the tray, bearing what I would have called a chocolate pie. I had seen a similar one in an Italian movie, and it had been called _crostata._

I didn't know how long it had taken her to bake the pie for me, but I was sure that it was longer than the car drive to and from her school. I'd heard her making noises in her kitchen for well over an hour. While I had forever at my disposal, she had taken time from her busy life to do such a nice thing for me.

I hadn't imagined that it would be such a challenge to live up to my personal vow not to lie to her. I wasn't going to eat chocolate or any other human food, and she had just brought a pie – a big one. How could I possibly avoid wasting it, and her efforts, without hurting her feelings or lying?

I invited her to come in. The smell of the pie crust, mingled with that of the chocolate cream, permeated my foyer. As we entered the kitchen, I motioned Bella toward a chair. I rarely even passed through the room where humans would prepare food and eat.

As she set her tray on the table and took her seat, I noticed her warmth–and the myriad of scents she brought with her–juxtaposed against the sterile, antiseptic backdrop of my kitchen. I worried that she would notice my house was as cold as a furniture showroom. Indeed all the furnishings had been purchased as an entire display. I gave her a smile, which was the only warm gesture I could offer.

"You shouldn't have troubled yourself with baking a _crostata_ for me," I told her softly.

"You should not have troubled yourself with rescuing me from the Deluge, but you did – twice in a row!"

I laughed at her joke. "The Deluge, as the Great Flood in the Bible and Noah's Ark? Is this a professional idiosyncrasy? Do you always try to find a literary reference?"

"Guilty as charged," she admitted.

"What kind of literature do you teach, by the way?"

"Italian," she answered. "But I have studied comparative literature, so I like to flip through different ones."

"And your favorite is?" I prodded.

"Slow down," she playfully reprimanded me. "Why don't you tell me something about yourself? For example, what kind of books do you enjoy?"

Reading was truly a pleasure for me. I remembered that I'd liked it in my human life, though it had been a rare treat for me then. Anyway, our conversation wasn't going to be about me, since I wanted to know _her_ better.

I'm looking for suggestions. What do you think I would like, Professor?" I smiled with what I hoped was just the right amount of playfulness.

"Let me think..." She tapped her chin. "I hope I can provide some good advice. In my former school, I used to share my reading suggestions with my students, and we would discuss what we'd read in our spare time."

Again I considered that I'd never met a teacher like Bella. I knew that in Italy the relationship between teachers and students was different than it was in America. Teachers, especially of humanities, spent many hours every week with the same pupils, and it wasn't uncommon that they would get to talk a bit about themselves in the break, or before or after the lessons.

Bella stopped speaking abruptly, as if something were troubling her. She averted her eyes and blinked a couple times, making me wonder if she was on the verge of tears. The silence was unexpected, but her heart beat louder, her pulse racing.

In an attempt to change the subject, I recalled that she hadn't been living with Jake when I'd moved into my current house. "You aren't from this town, are you?" I asked.

She gave me an embarrassed smile. "Is it that obvious?" She tried to talk in a playful tone, but it fell flat. "I moved to Tuscany at the beginning of the school year from another region. I'm originally from a small town on the sea." She still didn't seem at ease, and her silent mind wasn't helping me to make her comfortable.

"I probably haven't been there. Would you tell me more about it? What makes your town special?"

Her expression softened. Was she recalling good memories, perhaps? I would have liked so much to see the images in her mind. "There's...the sea," she said with a shrug.

What a surprise: the sea in _a__ small __town __on __the __sea_...I had to suppress a laugh. "Beaches, tourists and a lot of fun in the summertime?" I guessed. "I can't imagine you with a tan."

"A tan is off-limits for me!" she scoffed. "I just get sunburned, and I hate crowds of tourists. But I really enjoyed the sea in the wintertime." Her eyes took on a faraway look. "Sometimes I'd go for walks on the beach in the moonlight, or sit on the shore to read a book on an overcast day. I could sit on the pier, and just watch the distant boats, and dream of the places they were going."

The sun was off-limits for me too, but not because of I couldn't tell her that cloudy days or nighttime were the only times when I could enjoy the sea. I would have liked to accompany her on one of her walks along the seashore. "Do you miss it?" I asked softly.

She looked me in the eyes and limited herself to a nod. Bella didn't seem defensive anymore. Recalling her hometown and the sea, she had become sad and dreamy at the same time.

"Maybe it's better if I go," she murmured at last, giving a glance at her watch. "Thank you again, Edward."

There was nothing she needed to thank me for. I owed her, not vice-versa. Impulsively, I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. "If there's anything that you need, from midnight piano playing to rescuing from the Flood, here's my phone number. Call me anytime, okay?" It was only what a friend would do, I told myself.

She was smiling again. "Let me guess: your ringtone is a piano piece, isn't it?"

I laughed. "Of course. One that I really like, so make it play soon."

When Bella left my house I felt a sense of loss. I looked at the _crostata_ she had brought. It was the first and only pie anyone had baked for me in a century. I couldn't savor it, but it sated a different, deeper hunger.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

I'd begun to keep tabs on Isabella's weekly schedule, and I noticed that as she had done on Thursday, she went out early on Tuesday, walking toward the bus stop. She was the only person on the street in the morning mist.

_What__ are__ you __doing?_ I asked myself, as I went out and got in my car a few minutes later. Before I could fully figure out what I was going to tell Isabella, I was heading toward her bus stop. I arrived there after a self-imposed detour, so it would seem that I was just passing through by sheer coincidence. She was pacing back and forth in front of the bus shelter. I waved to get her attention and rolled down the car window.

"May I give you a lift?" I offered.

"But there's no Deluge today," she objected.

The weather was foggy, but it wasn't raining. I studied the sky, staring at the clouds as if I could predict the future, then flashed her a smile. "Better safe than sorry, don't you think?"

She gave me an amused smile. "What can I say? Thank you."

I beamed as she got in. "By the way, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

She grinned. "Really? I'm all ears."

"When do you have to take the first bus to school?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow at me. "On Tuesdays and Thursdays. Why?"

"I have an offer for you: I'll drive you to school on those mornings."

She frowned. Bad sign. What could I do to make her accept? I'd have happily driven her every day, but offering it would have seemed too much. I hoped I could at least prevent her from waiting for the bus, alone in the cold, on the days when she had to go out earlier.

"And...?" she prodded.

I was puzzled. "And what?" Why couldn't I just read her mind? Everything would have been so much simpler, if less fascinating.

"How does the offer continue?" she inquired.

I shrugged. "Is it supposed to continue? You wouldn't have to wait for the bus or get caught in the rain."

"Edward, your offer is very generous, but I can't accept," she argued. "It's very early, and I don't want to trouble you. You have no reason to do something like that for me."

I tried to lighten the mood by teasing her. "It wouldn't be only for you: your students will always be sure that their tests start on time. I'd be providing a public service."

"But wouldn't you be too tired?" she asked softly. "And what about your job schedule?"

I chuckled at the thought that I would ever get tired. But thinking about my _job_ wasn't so humorous. "I work from home, so I can arrange my schedule," I reassured her. "And like you've already noticed, I don't sleep much."

Isabella still seemed undecided. She sat in silence and began to bite her nails.

I considered something else to encourage her decision. "I've got an idea," I began. "You don't work on Fridays, right?"

She stiffened in her seat. "How do you know?"

Had I made a false step? Could I make it seem like I was just observant? "When you brought me the pie, you said that you didn't have to work on that day," I explained.

"Did I?" she wondered.

_Of __course __you __did_.

"It's true," she confirmed. "I don't work on Fridays."

"And you haven't done your homework yet, Professor," I scolded.

She blinked at me. "Homework?"

"Weren't you supposed to suggest a book for me to read?" I reminded her.

She laughed. Good sign. "Ah, _that_ homework. I'm sorry," she apologized, giving me a sheepish smile.

"So, I've a new offer. Starting today, I'll give you a lift to school every Tuesday and Thursday. In return, on Thursday you'll give me a reading suggestion, and we'll discuss the book on the following Tuesday."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed.

_Hell__ yes!_"Deal?"

"But if it doesn't work out..."

"It _will_ work out," I assured her.

"You must be a speed reader," she marveled, almost under her breath.

My grin was wider than it'd been for a very long time.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Thursday, February 1, 2007

There wasn't much chance that Isabella could find a book that I hadn't read yet, since I was a fast reader with too much spare time. Nevertheless, I paced anxiously in front of her house waiting for her to arrive. I was looking forward to her suggestion, since it wouldn't be just any book, it would be one _she _had picked for me.

The main door of her apartment building opened up, and Isabella hurried my way.

"Have you done your homework?" I questioned her even before she had a chance to say hello.

"Of course I did." She smiled at my enthusiasm, and when I opened the car door for her, she seemed surprised. I wondered if she wasn't used to being treated like a lady, or maybe she didn't think of me as a gentleman.

She rummaged through her purse while I began to drive. "Are you ready to see what's in store for you?" she asked excitedly.

"Not just yet. What time do you finish school today, if you don't mind me asking?"

"One o'clock." She looked at me with suspicion evident on her face. "Why?"

I watched my words carefully to avoid lying to her. "Well, we're a little rushed right now, and I want to do this right. I've got a few things to do today, and I can swing by to pick you up after school. If I give you a ride, there would be more time to introduce the book you've picked out."

She looked at me like she was trying to figure me out and didn't answer immediately. Was she still sleepy, or was I confusing her?

At length, she nodded. "I'll see you at one, then."

After Bella left the car and entered her school, I went to visit a couple of stores. I got everything ready for my plan, though I couldn't believe what I was actually doing. In my long existence, I'd known what it meant to be alive, dead, and undead. I had let the monster consume everything inside me but had never felt what Isabella was awakening in me. Since I'd left Carlisle's coven, the humans I'd spent the most time with were the ones I'd drained.

I tried to reconcile what I was learning in my time with Bella with what I had discovered about her by listening to the sounds coming from her apartment. I'd spent decades trying to block other people's minds. I'd absorbed all the pain and horror of my prey's thoughts, and it seemed unbelievable that someone could still elicit in me such strong compassion.

But night after night, I had heard her screaming in her nightmares. At first, I'd been almost overwhelmed with the curiosity about her secret torment. I had to admit that I had even listened to her phone calls, and she didn't say a word to anyone about what troubled her. She didn't even open up to her roommate.

Then, I had become amazed by Bella's attitude. Jake didn't spend much time at home, but those times were filled with her kindness. She was encouraging and supportive when they talked about his work, and she had a way of making him feel cared for with thoughtful little gestures. More than once she'd made him a special dinner and told jokes when he was in a bad mood over something from work. Whatever was giving her nightmares didn't seem to change her sweet disposition toward Jake.

I wondered if he realized how blessed he was. He had known the wonderful girl he lived with for years. They were almost like family to each other, and he would get to be by her side for many years to come. I could only hope to spend a short time with her.

I felt unusually pleased as I spotted Isabella outside the school, and noticed she was looking for me. She finally saw me and walked toward the car with a bright smile.

"How was your morning?" I asked her as soon as she was seated.

"It was fine, and yours?"

"A bit busy. Let's just say that it's better now. I'm getting my reading suggestion, right?" I felt a thrill of anticipation.

She immediately pulled a book from her purse. "Here it is," she announced. "It's a short novel, so I hope you'll be able to finish it before next Tuesday."

"I didn't ask for a short book," I complained. On the contrary, for my purposes the longer the book was, the better.

"I know, I know," she reassured me. "I promise you'll get longer ones, too."

"Would you read to me?" I asked.

She tilted her head at me. "Now?"

"Exactly," I confirmed, eager to listen to her.

Isabella began reading the story of a boy who had met a child from another world, who had fallen to Earth from a spaceship. The irony that it was about a human who had met someone very different wasn't lost on me. The human boy would become an older brother in a matter of hours, and while his sibling was being born, the little alien kept him company.

It was a fairytale, and the first I'd ever had read aloud to me. When I was a child, no one had read even a single fairytale to me. Bella's voice caressed me, giving me the comfort and hugs I'd desired many decades ago. But how could I–a soulless monster, a murderer–encourage such a sweet young woman to spend her time with me?

Isabella glanced outside the window and frowned. "This is not the way home," she observed.

I pursed my lips in a tight line. "It isn't," I confirmed. "We aren't going home."

She glared at me, and her voice was wary. "Edward, what's happening?"

I turned away and stared at the road. "Isabella, I'm kidnapping you."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks <strong>**for** **reading!** **Reviewers** **get** **a**** little**** gift.**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Many thanks (and a _crostata_) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne****Tate**, and **Jmolly**. Thanks also to **Pastiche.****Lethe** and **WellMadeMistake** (**Sparkly****Red****Pen**).

The novel Edward is reading is _The__ Orange__ Girl_, by Jostein Gaarder. Don't miss it, it's an enchanting story. Bella has chosen Jostein Gaarder's, _Hello?__ Is __Anybody__ There?_ for Edward. I suggest it to you too.

In my oneshot _The__ Moon__ over __Volterra_, I tried to delve into Carlisle's decision to not harm and his ideas about killing humans. It's posted on my profile.

High school teachers and University professors in Italy are addressed as "Professor" (without surname); that's the way Edward addresses Bella, obviously joking.

Italian high school week is usually from Monday to Saturday for the students. Teachers, on the other hand, work five days each week, so in their timetable they get a free morning. In this school year, Friday mornings are Bella's free time.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**)

On **h t t p ****: ****/ ****/ ****myreadinglounge. ****blogspot. ****com/** you can find twific recs and reviews, author interviews and story extras. There's also a "Writing Lab" with writing tips and experiences!


	4. Pier

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 – Pier<strong>

* * *

><p>Thursday, February 1, 2007<p>

I would have never imagined that one of my less endearing human traits could resurface so unexpectedly. I only let my smart-mouthed comment play on Isabella's fears for a few of (her) rapid heartbeats. Then I realized I'd been a thoughtless jerk, reminiscent of my misspent youth.

"I'm just kidding, Bella," I hurried to tell her, smiling again.

"What the hell does that mean?" she yelled.

I slowed the car and turned to look at her. "I was only joking," I apologized again. "I have a surprise for you. Would you stay with me for a little while?" I pleaded as softly as I could. " I'm not trying to kidnap you, I swear!"

Her heartbeat slowed, but her expression was still concerned. "You are crazy," she muttered. "Do you have any idea how much you scared me?"

"Can you forgive me? Please," I insisted. "I just want to take you somewhere. We'll be back soon."

"Jake is waiting for me, and my father is a cop. If something happens to me..." she warned.

"No, no!" I rushed to reassure her. It hurt when she mentioned Jake, but regardless, I had to ease her mind. "Have a little faith, okay? You can call your friend and tell him you're with me."

She sighed in resignation. "Fine, I'll go along with this mystery trip, but don't make me regret my decision." Her words were stern, but a small smile played about her lips.

"I promise you won't," I vowed.

Since the day I'd driven her to school for the first time, I'd been wondering if there was something nice I could do for Bella. I hoped that my stupid joke wouldn't ruin our time together.

"Can you at least tell me where we're going?" she asked, her words still clipped.

"It would spoil your surprise, so...no."

She grumbled. "Any hint?"

I tried to lighten her mood. "It's a nice place to sit and read. Someone brought a book, right?"

She didn't relent. "Is it far from here?"

I shrugged noncommittally; as long as I kept her distracted, I could drive almost as fast as usual. "Why don't you take a nap? I'll wake you when we arrive."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I'm not going to let my guard down."

If looks could kill, Bella would have sliced me to ribbons with her eyes. Even as invulnerable as I was, her gaze threatened to end my existence. A short laugh escaped me at the image – my enraged little tiger. _My_?

Impossible. Isabella was never going to be mine. She had her family, her life, her career, her roommate –which made me wonder again why Jake wasn't trying to make her fall in love with him. Maybe she already was. I was just someone who was passing through her life, enjoying the chance to bask in a ray of her light.

"Why don't you continue reading to me?" I suggested.

She quirked an eyebrow, but I could see that she wasn't so angry anymore.

"I'm not sure you deserve it."

I snickered. "Pretty please?"

It didn't take long before she opened the book again. "_When two people come out from their deep valley and meet each other on the top of a big mountain, the mountain's name or the place from where they came doesn't matter anymore. When they are on the mountaintop, they are on the roof of the world_," she read aloud.

Struck by that passage, I stopped her. "May I ask you why you picked this book?"

It seemed that her anger had faded as she smiled at me. "I was thinking that we don't know very much about the valley we each came from, do we?" Below her soft voice, I could feel her passion for reading.

Bella had chosen that story because we didn't know each other well, and she was interested in getting to know me better. The thought left me speechless. I longed to become better acquainted with her, but at the same time I had to protect her from knowing _me. _The less she discovered about me, the better. We were always on the razor's edge.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

"Only if you promise not to get angry again."

"I'll try."

I took a breath, bracing myself for her reaction. "When was the last time you saw the sea?"

She gaped at me, then a kaleidoscope of different emotions played across her face.

"Remember, you promised not to get angry."

"But..." she stammered. I listened to her heartbeat, hoping its quick pace meant a positive emotion and not that she was mad at me again. "It will be dark by the time we get there," she objected.

"At night, without any crowds," I confirmed. "The ideal setting for a walk on the beach, I hope."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Edward, you are completely crazy."

"So I've been told," I said with a smile.

Her expression softened. "Why are you doing all this for me?"

"It's another public service," I joked. "I think every teacher needs some free time to unwind from the intense daily activity of taming wild teenagers. Your students are lucky to have you as a teacher, and you deserve a little prize."

I wasn't prepared at all for what happened next. Isabella inhaled sharply, and her expression darkened as if I'd slapped her.

"Bella, what is it?" I asked, shocked.

"It's nothing," she mumbled. "Just a bad memory."

But it wasn't _nothing_ if it was making her almost cry. Even if I didn't have a hope of success, I struggled to hear her thoughts. Her usual complete mental silence frustrated me. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.

She shook her head and stared outside the window, shutting me out. _Is it the same reason why you have nightmares? _I wondered.I couldn't ask, not after I'd sort of kidnapped her. It would be like admitting I also stalked her. There was a pain under her bright surface; a place where nobody could reach her. She avoided talking about it, even with Jake. There was no chance that I could ever gain her trust to the point that she would open up to me.

I reached out my hand, but how could the icy skin of a monster be reassuring? So I pulled it back before she noticed; even the opportunity to give her a small gesture of comfort was denied to me. We remained silent for the rest of the drive.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I had found directions to a beach with a pier on the sea. From the pictures I had seen, it seemed a place that Bella would like. By the time we got there, it was twilight, and we had the seashore to ourselves.

"We're here," I announced.

Bella returned my smile with a curious gaze. She still seemed lost in her thoughts, but not as upset. Wherever her worries were taking her, I would be ready to welcome her back.

I opened her door and helped her out. "Would you allow me the honor of a walk, Miss Isabella?"

She eyed me as I retrieved a backpack from the trunk. "Should I be worried?" she asked.

"Yes, absolutely," I joked.

I offered her my arm for our walk along the pier. Did I look like an old-fashioned gentleman? I felt like we were in a fairytale, and I was afraid an evil witch would show up at any moment to remind me what I was and send me away.

The clouds had covered the sky with a soft gray veil. For me it wasn't melancholy, but intimate. Maybe for Bella it had the same effect as a room with dim lights. The breeze made the water ripple; it seemed as we went further along the pier, the sea was welcoming us into its embrace. Walking in silence with her wasn't awkward at all. It allowed me to be alone with my thoughts, without feeling lonely. Could it be the same for her?

She stopped me in my tracks with a sudden question. "Edward, can you read my mind?"

_If you only knew. _I tried to appear deadpan. "Why do you ask?"

"Are you always going to answer my questions with another question?" she joked.

"You're doing the same," I retorted.

She had already compared me to a vampire, though not seriously. How was it possible that she was wondering about my mind-reading ability as well? It seemed that sometimes the truth was right in front of us, but we couldn't see it.

"Unfortunately I can't read your mind," I told her at last. "But I am curious." I lightly tapped the silken crown of her hair. "What's going on in there?"

"I'm thinking about how much I love piers. It's been months since I have gone to one of them for a walk."

"Is there a pier on the sea in your hometown?"

"No. And besides..." She hesitated and turned to face the oncoming breeze, letting it brush the hair from her face as she closed her eyes. I was eager to learn more, but I wanted her to be at ease and not put any pressure on her, so I remained silent.

After a few moments she turned back to me. "I haven't been home since last September."

I didn't ask more, afraid that in the car I'd already made a mistake in asking her if she wanted to talk about her worries. After reading so many human minds, had I forgotten that too many people always seemed eager to _talk about it_? As if they could resurrect the dead with a proper amount of _talking._

A tentative smile appeared on Isabella's lips as she continued walking. "You were right, the sea is among the things that I was missing the most." She inhaled deeply. What was she feeling?

"Do you know the fairytale of the little mermaid?" she asked, out of the blue.

I nodded.

"When I see the foam, I think of that story. The first time I read it, I was a child. I went to the seashore to cry for the mermaid."

The image of a young little Bella, crying on the beach because of a sad fairytale, moved me. I recalled that the original version of that story was harsh. After the prince the mermaid loved had married someone else, the Sea Witch had given her the opportunity to become a mermaid again if she slew the prince and bathed her feet in his blood. Was Bella aware of that side of the story, or did she only know the Disney version? Regardless, I knew better than to scare her with the gory details.

"The little mermaid turned her back on her family and her nature, suffered to be with the prince whom she had saved and loved, but it wasn't enough," I said, almost to myself. "One's nature can't be changed, no matter how much you struggle." Weren't my prey and I the best proof of that?

Bella didn't agree with my interpretation. "The little mermaid had the courage to go beyond her nature," she argued. "She made her choices based on her love for the prince, not what she was supposed to be or do. They both could have been happy if the prince had had the same courage."

"But her decision was for the best," I countered. "She'd wanted to become human, but as soon as she understood she didn't belong in the prince's world, she let him live _his_ human life. It seems even in fairy tales it's better if creatures from different worlds don't meet each other." _Said the vampire to his human friend_, I thought. If my words were true, what was I doing with Bella? Was I the only exception to the rule?

"Aren't we all creatures from different worlds?" Bella wondered.

I gave her a half-smile. "On that, I agree."

By the time we arrived at the end of the pier, it was dark. "May we stay here for a while?" she asked.

"We can stay as long as you want," I assured her.

"Says the man who kidnapped me," she snorted.

I gave her a sheepish grin, remembering my earlier joke, and sat down on the wooden boards. Bella did the same, and I opened my backpack. "Let's see, what do we have here?" I asked, pulling a blanket out of it.

In front of us, there was only the sea. The silent darkness wrapped us in a private bubble. Bella was a twinkling star in the evening. Only for this night, she was _my_ star.

I draped the blanket over her shoulders. "Here," I murmured. "I must bring you home safe and sound, and a cold doesn't fit my plans." I'd never be able to offer her a warm embrace. My stony, cold arms would have only been repulsive.

She looked me in the eyes. I was glad that the moment we were sharing would be forever in my memory. But I didn't want to see the monster I was in the mirror of her irises. Despite her keen human instincts, I hoped that my gaze wouldn't reveal the danger I posed, and that she could see I only wanted her to be protected and cocooned.

As if it came naturally to her, she took a corner of the blanket and covered my shoulders.

Forever had always seemed like a sentence of damnation for me – a huge expanse of time I couldn't hope to fill. For the very first time, I felt like even forever wouldn't have been long enough to spend with Bella.

She yawned, and I liked even that small gesture. It reminded me she was real. "Sorry," she mumbled. "You are probably more tired than me, since you woke up so early this morning."

A smile flickered on my face. "I don't get tired easily," I told her quietly. "But aren't you worrying too much for me?"

"Said the man who gave me two rides in a day to keep me safe from the rain."

I chuckled. "But I got a chocolate pie for it." I took out a small package from the backpack. "Speaking of food..." I revealed a couple of sandwiches, hoping that they were good for a human –or better, good for her. "It's not a chocolate pie, and I haven't cooked it, but it's a little dinner."

Bella took a sandwich but noticed that I hadn't taken anything for myself. "Don't you eat?" she asked.

I shook my head. I wasn't going to lie again, as far as I could help it.

"Is the food poisoned?" she joked, making me laugh again.

I gave her my default excuse. "Sorry for not joining you, but I'm on a special diet. I hope it won't bother you if I don't eat when we're together. Just tell me you're not going to worry about this too, okay?" I smiled to put her at ease.

"Let's see...you don't eat, you don't get tired easily, and you don't sleep at night. What do you actually do? I already know you play the piano, although because of me you don't play at night anymore."

_What do I actually do? Most of the time I kill people and drink their blood. I am pursuing my revenge._ I pushed away those thoughts. Couldn't I forget what I was, at least for an evening?

I gave her a conspiratorial glance. "My public didn't like my music," I whispered. "That's the reason I don't play the piano anymore."

She fidgeted with the zipper of her jacket. "I owe you an apology. I don't know what came over me that day, when I complained about your playing..." She blushed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's the way we met, and I don't regret it." How could I regret the best thing I'd found in a century?

"You played so well that I thought it was a stereo," she recalled. We both smiled at the memory. "Will I ever get to listen to you again?"

"Whenever you want," I promised. Could it be soon? "I won't be home tomorrow and Saturday, but what about Sunday afternoon? I'll give you a private concert."

She gave me a wide smile. "Deal," she agreed. She retrieved her phone from her purse. "I'll give you my phone number, in case something changes."

The sea breeze got colder. "It's time to take you back, before the police come after me," I said playfully, holding out my hand to help her.

"Sorry, my hands are ice-cold," she apologized.

_Your hands? Ice-cold? _"Mine too. I have some problems with bad circulation, so they're always cold," I explained with another of my default excuses. "But it's another thing you don't have to worry about, okay?" I tried to joke.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

By the time we were back in the car, Bella seemed exhausted.

"Time for a nap?" I suggested. "You aren't afraid anymore, are you?" Was the lion telling the lamb to not be afraid? I knew she should have been frightened. But I didn't want her to feel fear when we were together.

Lulled by the car's motion, she fell asleep. She was turned my way, with her lips slightly parted. I caressed her mouth, trying not to think that my fingers were like a predator's claws on a rosebud. Touching her skin made me burn – and not because of the bloodlust.

I recalled a night I'd spent in the woods after hunting. I'd climbed up in a tree, facing a small river meandering between the mountains. When dawn came, I'd felt as if I were a new creation, and the miracle of nature coming to life was meant only for me.

It was a memory I was fond of, but it was nothing compared to my dream of being able to hold Isabella all night long. I wanted to see her sleeping night after night in my arms. I yearned to be the one who would bask in the first of her smiles when she awoke each morning. Irresistible images flooded my mind. I imagined myself hovering over her, grazing her lips with the softest of kisses...I stopped breathing and waited for her to wake up.

When the car stopped, her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked.

"We're here, Sleeping Beauty," I told her quietly.

"Hi, Prince Edward," she murmured.

"From kidnapper to prince?" I teased. "That's a huge change for a single day!"

"Are you going to kidnap me again?" she wondered.

My voice went low. "Is it a fear or a hope?"

Her cheeks became crimson. "Thank you for everything. It's been a good day."

"The same for me. Have a good night."

Once Isabella was safely inside, I felt restless. Instead of returning to my own house, I drove toward the countryside. I spent the night outside, staring at the stars and thinking about the most beautiful among them. Was Bella sleeping? What was she dreaming about? At dawn, I wrote a text for her.

I didn't know if vampires could go crazy. But certainly I wasn't in my right frame of mind when I hit the green button on my phone and sent it.

"_You are the literature specialist, but I recall that the change from frog to prince requires a kiss from the princess. See you on Sunday. - Edward._"

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

_The Little Mermaid_ (1837) is a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen, about a young mermaid who gives up her life in the sea for the love of a human prince.

Many thanks (and a walk on a pier) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne****Tate**, and **Jmolly**.

The novel Edward and Bella are reading is _Hello?__ Is __Anybody__ There?_ by Jostein Gaarder.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**)

On **h t t p ****: ****/ ****/ ****myreadinglounge. ****blogspot. ****com/** you can find twific recs and reviews, author interviews and story extras. There's also a "Writing Lab" with writing tips and experiences!


	5. Christmas Gift

_**An Italian Winter**_

December 30: Hey there! I've been told it's my birthday today. In lieu of a (chocolate) cake, here's a new chapter. We finally get to discover more about Edward's backstory.

Since my other multichapter story, "**De Immortalitate**," is now complete (and if you haven't met him yet, Romanward is ready for you), "**An Italian Winter**" is switching to a "**due to be updated every Friday**" schedule, with some exceptions on those weeks when I hope to post some o/s.

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 – Christmas Gift<strong>

* * *

><p>Sunday, February 4, 2007<p>

My hunt on the Tuscan Apennines had been long and satisfying, but I took down one more boar, just to be overstuffed. Since Isabella and I had been spending time together, I was feeding more, to avoid taking risks with her.

I replayed the mental images of our evening at the seaside. It was the closest I'd ever come to experiencing a dream, and not only as a vampire. But the following two days, and the background check I had done on my intended quarry, reminded me of why I was in Italy. My revenge was the only thing that should matter in my daily routine.

The option of performing another background check tempted me. _Never_, I told myself, ashamed of even thinking of prying into Bella's past. Still, I had to admit I was eager to know more about her. She'd said that she hadn't been home in months. I wondered if it had something to do with that Mike person who continued to haunt her dreams. I wanted to comfort her and to know her better, but listening to every sound that came from her apartment wasn't the right way to do it. I'd already interfered in too many lives, both as a mindreader and as a predator.

_With great power comes great responsibility_, Carlisle had told me the last time we had spoken.

That quote by Voltaire had been one of his principles, and it had also made him recall the sermons he'd listened to in his youth. _From the one to whom much has been entrusted, much more will be asked_, Jesus had said.

Images of the last Christmas I had spent with the Cullens flooded my mind. I didn't push them away.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Monday, December 25, 1972

Portland, Oregon

Carlisle, Esme, my siblings, and I came back home from our Christmas hunting trip. Our chosen method of sharing a meal together could be considered either a parody of human tradition or a way to hold onto a bit of humanity. I wanted to believe it was the second.

"You seem happy today," Carlisle told me with a smile.

I shrugged. "It's been a good Christmas."

"Our last one here," he observed.

I nodded. People at the hospital were starting to have suspicions about his lack of aging. It was time to relocate. I caught his next thoughts in the background, while we were all gathering in the living room to watch a movie.

_Edward...my son_, he thought. I was on alert, considering whether he was calling me or just thinking about me. _Finally he has the loving family he always deserved. How could the Masens renounce him?_

I spun around and met my maker's eyes just for a moment, before he averted them from me. But the worry marrying his features didn't go unnoticed.

"Who are the Masens?" I asked.

He stiffened. "Edward, I..." his voice faltered. It wasn't something I had ever witnessed in Carlisle.

"You said the Masens renounced me. Who are they?" I insisted. I'd never heard about that family name.

He took a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes. I wondered what he would tell me, but his mind was guarded. The images I glimpsed didn't add up. "May I talk to you in private?" he resolved himself to ask.

Every second of that evening, imprinted on my perfect memory, was going to play in slow motion before my eyes, over and over again through the years. He invited me to sit in his study. Just another shred of make-believe humanity.

"I'm proud of everything you've done so far, Edward. You've never killed a human, not even when you were a newborn, and you've also coped well with your mind reading abilities."

I frowned. "Why the preamble? You always told me that just because we've been dealt a certain hand, it doesn't mean we can't choose to rise above it." I chuckled darkly. "I guess I know how to cope with many things, since I was dealt bad hands all throughout my human life."

Carlisle recounted the day he had chosen me, out of all the people dying in the last months of the Spanish influenza.

He'd noticed that I was alone in my hospital bed, and he'd imagined that I'd already lost my parents to the epidemic. Death was imminent, and it would only be a matter of hours; my condition was so grave. In my delirium, I'd clutched his hand. "Don't leave me... Father, keep me!" I'd begged.

"There are things I haven't told you yet," he continued. "When I met you, I didn't know anything about the pain you'd actually had to endure in your young life. For decades I've wondered if changing you was the right decision. I was afraid this existence would be another burden on your shoulders." He paused. "Many years ago, you asked me to do something for you."

"Go on," I urged.

In his mind, he replayed an image of me, laughing with Emmett and Jasper. A memory from the hunt we'd just finished. _I hope you can feel how much we all love you as a son and a brother_, he told me. "I wasn't planning to tell you this tonight, but maybe it is the right moment to help you find closure with your human past."

I froze in my seat. After decades, did Carlisle have the answers I'd been looking for since my birth? I motioned for him to continue.

"I found your parents," he intoned, a second after I'd seen it in his mind.

I swallowed hard. As a human, I would now have been seventy-three years old. Maybe I'd have been dead. But the human boy inside me trembled, thinking about what Carlisle could have discovered.

"Your father went to school in Chicago, then he and your mother settled in a different part of the state, in Springfield. After the Great Depression, they moved to New York, where they're buried. Your mother, Elisabeth Masen, died last year of pneumonia. Your father, Edward Masen..."

"_Edward_?" I interrupted him.

He nodded. "You were named after him." He took a deep breath. "He became a lawyer and died in 1965. He had been crossing the road one morning on his way to the park where he used to go for a walk, and a hit-and-run driver killed him."

It seemed that each word Carlisle uttered was heavy as lead for him. I searched his mind, but couldn't find more than the scanty details he'd already given me. He retrieved an envelope from his desk. "Here's everything I found."

"What's this, my Christmas gift?" I asked bitterly.

He handed me the envelope. "I just checked some dates... they're all dead."

I felt the anger boiling inside me. "It's too late – what a shame!" I seethed.

"It's time to let it go, son," he told me quietly.

I flipped through the documents he had collected. I stared at them and frowned. They seemed old.

They seemed fucking _old._

A terrible realization dawned on me.

Carlisle looked me straight in the eyes; he saw what was coming. _I did it in your best interest. I did it for you,_ his mind told me, before I could voice my question.

"How long have you known who they were?" I growled.

He closed his eyes. "Since 1962," he admitted.

Chunks of wood showered around us: the remnants of Carlisle's desk after I destroyed it. "They were still alive?" I shouted. "How could you keep it from me? I trusted you!"

Emmett appeared on the threshold. "What the hell is going on in here?" he shouted.

"Out!" I hissed at him. "This is between Carlisle and me!"

Emmett didn't listen to me. He didn't retreat until our sire told him to leave us alone and keep the others in the living room. So, my brother was on his side. I faced the vampire I'd considered my father.

"How did you manage to hide everything for all these years?" I snarled. Instantly I saw the hospital in his thoughts and understood he'd done all his research far from home, so I couldn't read his mind.

I bared my teeth, but he didn't falter. "What were you going to do to them?" he asked.

"I wanted to ask them about what they did to me," I roared. "I wanted to know, directly from their lips, why they threw away their child like yesterday's garbage!"

"You would have disclosed the secret, then?" he prodded. A deep sorrow veiled his face. _You would have caused their deaths_, he added in his mind.

"You don't know that! It wasn't necessary that I admitted I was their son. I could have been a grandson... whatever."

"What if you killed them?" The mental question made me shudder. Then Carlisle tried to hide his thoughts again, which angered me even more.

"So you decided I would have become a murderer. Even though I've never killed, despite what I am – what _you_ have made me!" I taunted.

"I know your volatile temper. That's the reason I waited."

"It was my choice!" I yelled.

"It was my responsibility, Edward." _With great power comes great responsibility_, he thought.

"You chose them over me!" I accused.

He shook his head. "I chose you, my son, over the monster you would have become in killing them."

"Don't call me son!" I seethed. "A father should trust his son."

I got in his face, but he didn't back away. _Is he going to attack me? _he wondered.

I shook with rage, my fists clenched at my sides. "I was going to look for them on my own, but you made me promise I wouldn't. You said it could be too risky." I recalled. "Risky for whom? Who were you trying to protect? I trusted you, Carlisle."

"Can't you trust me more and believe that I only wanted to protect you?"

"How? By taking away _my_ choices?" I provoked.

"I am here to help you to move on," he offered. "We are all here for you."

"Have you told them?" I couldn't imagine what I would do if Esme and the others had known what Carlisle had discovered, and they'd kept it from me.

"No," he murmured. "I've been the only one dealing with the truth. I'd do anything to spare you from suffering more than you have already."

He was quiet but allowed me to read his thoughts. He had hoped that I would have found my mate, and that her love would have healed me, even if my family's acceptance wasn't enough. He had even hoped my human memories would fade after so many decades. Then the truth wouldn't hurt me as much. But his compassion only made my rage greater.

"Damn you and your principles! My life with your coven ends tonight."

The cries of pain from Esme crashed over me, through her thoughts and voice.

Carlisle winced and put a hand on my arm. "Remember who you are, Edward," he pleaded. "You deserve better." _Don't do this to yourself...son._

He thought again how proud he'd always been of me, how he had hoped to love and guide me as a good father would have done for a son.

I shoved his arm away and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind me. Emmett and Jasper tried to take hold of me; even Alice moved to block me. I shook them loose and barreled out into the cold night. Out of spite, I destroyed the Christmas tree Esme had so lovingly decorated in the yard.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Sunday, February 4, 2007

Since my last Christmas with the Cullens, every year on that so-called holy day, a human had taken his or her last breath under my teeth. Everyone had their own way to celebrate, and I chose the very thing my maker abhorred.

I had continued to feed on animals, like I had done for the half century I've spent with Carlisle and then with the other Cullens, but then on each anniversary of my departure I had let the monster in me take the lead. I preyed on the scum of the Earth, I had been careful to choose my targets, never over-indulging the monster. Otherwise, the lives I had ended would have been in the thousands.

I had set my rules, and made my exceptions, too. I remembered the woman I'd killed just a few weeks before. She had been the last human I'd fed from, before swearing that the next one would be my intended prey – my ultimate revenge.

Once again, after drinking from a human, I'd been disgusted by my red irises. The days before they turned golden again had been impossibly long. I knew the color seemed amazing to humans, and they compared it to topaz or amber. But it didn't change the truth: the very same eyes that had become lost in Bella's deep brown ones, in the tenderness they held, were the eyes of a monster.

The thought that I would be with her again in a few hours didn't elicit the usual mouthful of venom, but a different kind of anticipation. What would have happened if I'd never left the Cullens, and I'd continued to follow Carlisle's principles? I fantasized that I could have met Bella when she was studying in college. I could have posed as a student and attended her classes. Would things have been different then?

The carcass of the boar I'd just drained answered my questions. I'd never have been anything but a monster, even if I'd never killed a human.

I wondered how Bella had spent her Christmas away from her hometown. Had she been alone? Had she cried? If I'd met her then, would my last victim still be alive?

I cringed as I recalled the way I'd met my most recent prey and what had led me to her.

If I'd met Isabella last Christmas, _she_ would have been my victim.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Happy New Year 2012!

Many thanks (and a New Year's Eve gift) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne****Tate**, and **Jmolly**.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**)

On **h t t p ****: ****/ ****/ ****myreadinglounge. ****blogspot. ****com/** you can find twific recs and reviews, author interviews and story extras. There's also a "Writing Lab" with writing tips and experiences!

This chapter's literary suggestion:_  
><em>

_I do not want/ to dive/ into a woolball/ of streets_

_I have so much/ weariness/ on my shoulders_

_Leave me such/ as a/ thing/ put/ in a/ corner/ and forgotten_

_Here/ one can feel/ nothing but/ the good warmth_

_I stay/ with the four/ smoke/ somersaults/ of the fireside_

(Giuseppe Ungaretti, _Christmas_, December 26, 1916).


	6. Piano Keys

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 – Piano Keys<strong>

* * *

><p>Sunday, February 4, 2007<p>

_For the tenor romanza 'Nessun dorma' Puccini predicted the popularity of 'E lucean le stelle'; nor was he mistaken. A much-quoted letter to..._

I stopped mid-sentence. I could hear a man swearing in the building next door. I averted my eyes from the computer screen where I was reading an essay about the Italian musician Giacomo Puccini. When I realized the voice was Jake's, I quickly read his thoughts. He was angry about a soccer match he was watching on TV. I was about to block him when I caught an image of Bella, wearing her sweats and holding a pair of light blue jeans and a white blouse. Through his eyes I saw the TV catch her attention.

"Did the captain actually screw up a penalty?" she asked. I wondered if she was a soccer fan. Jake's mind gave me an instant replay of the last seconds of the match.

"He did," Jake grumbled.

She huffed.

The soccer players resumed the match, and Jake focused on it.

"May I ask you something?" she persisted.

"Go on," he told her absently.

"I'm going out for the afternoon. Would I look okay in these?"

He barely spared her a glance as she showed him the outfit she'd chosen.

"You look amazing no matter what you wear," I answered, though neither of them could hear me. "But why are you asking his opinion?"

"Sweetie, how could you possibly look good wearing the Lazio colors when Rome's team is playing?" Jake joked.

What were they talking about? It took a second for me to remember that Lazio and Rome were not only two soccer teams, but rivals as well, and Lazio's colors were white and light blue. Some humans were fond of strange things. Even when I'd been human myself, people had gone crazy over the World Series, though I'd never had the chance to enjoy even one baseball game. Couldn't they think of better things to do in the short time they had to live?

"I'm not going to be dressed in red and yellow," Bella retorted.

"What a pity," he snorted. "What do you have against the Rome colors? Perhaps with a little wolf insignia," he suggested.

"I'm not going to a soccer game!" she objected.

"Aren't you?" he crooned. "So tell me, where are you going?"

I held my breath. She didn't have plans other than coming to my place, did she?

"To a piano concert," she answered.

Her words made me smile. Was I the star of the show? But my smile faded when she went on.

"Do you remember Edward?" she asked her friend.

Had she talked about me with her roommate? It wouldn't have been a good thing. The fewer humans who knew about me, the better.

"You mean the neighbor? That ugly monster who kept you awake at night?" he joked.

Had Isabella really described me that way? I moved closer to the window of my living room. I could see the windows of the apartment where she and Jake lived, but I couldn't see them. I was eager to know more about what she thought of me, but I had to stick with their conversation and Jake's thoughts. As if I wasn't already spying on them too much.

"He's not a monster!" she protested, "and he's definitely not ugly!"

I beamed. "Thank you for the compliment, dear."

Jake muted the TV. The images of the soccer match, which had occupied his thoughts thus far, left his mind. He was focusing only on Bella's words. Was the conversation getting serious?

An image of Isabella from head to toe appeared in his mind. "Are you going out with him?" her roommate asked.

Through his mind, I saw her nodding.

"And you asked me for advice about your clothes," he recalled.

Again, she nodded.

"He gives you a lift to school, what, twice a week?"

"Exactly," she confirmed.

"Are you...friends?" Jake went on, relentless in his interrogation.

Were we friends? I held my breath, waiting for her answer.

"Yes, _Dad_," she mocked. "You don't have anything to worry about."

He let out a small chuckle. "I'm glad you're making friends here, sweetie. But if he doesn't behave himself, he'll have to deal with me."

Jake rose up in all his height: he was tall, almost six feet six, and well-built. Indeed, he could be intimidating...to another human.

She smiled at him. "I'll keep you posted, okay? Now just tell me if the clothes are fine."

"Sure." His attention went back to the game, and she left the room.

I became even more impatient, knowing that she was getting ready to come to me. In a matter of minutes, my living room would be filled with her scent and her voice. I looked around. I'd never given a damn about the interior design of my house, but it suddenly seemed important; I wanted Isabella to feel welcome. Would she think the furniture was cozy, or would she find the setup cold and impersonal?

I remembered my time with Carlisle's family. Esme had always made our house a real home. My adoptive mother didn't consider choosing the furniture a part of our human pretense, but as a way to take care of the people she loved.

After a while, Bella's voice reached me loud and clear as she shouted to Jake: "I won't be late, but there's some dinner in the fridge!"

"Thanks, _Mom_," he shouted back.

"Goaaal!" he suddenly yelled. "Bella!" he called her back. "Remember, if Rome wins the championship, I'm going to marry you!"

Could the head of a vampire spin? Mine did. _It's the way it should be_, I told myself. _Someday Isabella might get married. Maybe not to Jake, but she might say "yes" to someone else. He'd be the luckiest guy in the world. __And then, will she even remember me?_

She laughed. "Not in a million years, Jake!"

I heard her apartment door close. "I'll think of you every single day for a million years, Isabella," I whispered.

The way Jake and Bella teased each other reminded me of jokes shared with my siblings. I wondered if Alice had done what I'd asked her in our last meeting.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Wednesday, December 27, 1972

The woods around Portland, Oregon

_Please, don't run_. My sister's mental plea reached me when I was already bolting away. _Please_, she repeated. I checked her thoughts. Alice was alone, so I decided to listen to her.

"Be quick," I warned.

As she entered the small clearing among the trees, the sun made her look like a fairy. She ran toward me, stopping a few feet away.

"What happened, Edward?"

"Don't you know?" I responded harshly. "Hasn't Carlisle told you the whole story yet?"

She shook her head. "He would never betray your trust."

I laughed darkly.

She came closer and sat on the ground, mirroring my position. "This has something to do with your human past, doesn't it?" she guessed.

I didn't answer.

"None of us have a good past," she continued, and sadness softened her words. "Why don't you try to share it with us? Maybe we could help you with your burden."

She was still, hugging her knees against her chest. I wasn't used to seeing her face marred by sadness and concern.

"You're right," I told her quietly. "Why didn't I think of that before? I'll come home and talk with my loving father, who has never kept anything from me. My _honest _and _compassionate _father, who has repaid all the trust and effort I've put into following his lifestyle, by granting me the same trust."

She looked at me with hope, but when she caught the sarcasm in my voice, she winced.

"I can come back and share my story with all of you, as I've done with Carlisle, can't I?" I seethed. "The only friend I shared my sorrow with has taken away my choices. He didn't trust me! Why shouldn't I expect the same from the rest of you? And if that's not enough, _dear_ Alice, I can always count on my mate's love, can't I?" I snapped.

She let out a sob. "I didn't know, Edward, believe me," she apologized. "But I'm sure that Carlisle cared about your best interest. You know that my visions can change."

Her thoughts confused me. In her mind, she was replaying a scene of herself talking with our father, discussing one of her visions with him. My name was said more than once in their conversation. But I had never caught anything from their thoughts. Unless...I'd had the impression that Carlisle was keeping something from me, but I'd dismissed it. And then, his revelation and the aftermath.

"What are you talking about?" I snarled.

Alice's eyes widened. "Don't you know about my vision?" she asked in a small voice.

"What vision?" I urged, moving toward her. She jumped up and stood in front of me.

"It was ten years ago," she began to explain. "I had a vision of you. You were leaving for Chicago, and then there was another part of your future, in what seemed like a big city. You were alone and..." she hesitated.

"Go on," I ordered.

"You had red eyes."

I was frozen. "You know I've never attacked a human."

She nodded. _We are all so proud of you,_ she told me in her thoughts. "I tried to understand when and where the second vision was set, but it was no use," she added.

"Chicago is the city where I lived as a human. But the red eyes...only Carlisle has ever seen me with red eyes." A growl rumbled in my chest as I recalled my first year as a newborn. I'd always acted according to my maker's values. But for him it hadn't been enough to grant me the choice to see my parents while they had still lived.

"That's why I spoke about it with him," she explained.

"You what?" I growled.

She shuddered. "I told him what I'd seen, hoping that he could understand more about your future. Maybe he could have recognized some details."

So, based on Alice's vision, my father had decided to keep secrets from me. I turned my back on my sister, my hands clenched in fists. She and I had always been close. Had she betrayed my trust, too? "What did he say?" I pressed.

The memory of a concerned Carlisle showed up in her mind. "He told me that there was something that he was going to discuss with you, but it was between you and him."

"And you didn't think that a vision about _my_ future could have been interesting for _me_,too?" I spat. "What else will I discover, if I ever come back to your coven?"

She flinched when I addressed the Cullens as a coven and not as a family. _My_ family.

"We're done, Alice."

She was brave enough to approach me. Her light touch on my shoulder made me turn my face toward her.

_Please, Edward_, she pleaded through her mind. _Come back. Let us make up for this._

I narrowed my eyes at her. "There's actually something that you can do for me," I offered.

Her sad eyes lit up with hope. "Anything."

"Don't look at my future anymore. Whatever happens. If you've ever loved me –as you say– can you do it?"

She didn't follow me when I ran away. The sound of her tearless sobs reached me for a few moments longer. Then it faded in the distance.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Sunday, February 4, 2007

When Bella knocked on my door, I had to remind myself to open the door at a human pace, for I was too eager to have her with me.

"Good afternoon, Sir," she greeted me. "I have heard there's a piano concert in the neighborhood today," she teased.

"Sorry, Miss," I played along. "It's a private concert for a princess. Are you the one I'm waiting for?"

She flushed. I recalled that she'd never answered my text about kisses and frogs. Had I been too pushy? "I'm just the bad witch," she hissed, simulating a hoarse voice.

"And I'm the villain," I retorted. _So sorry it's not a joke_. "Come in, little witch."

I led her to the couch and went to sit on the piano bench. It was the first time I had an audience since I'd left the Cullens.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. _Isabella_. Her heartbeat was like a metronome. What would I play for her? Who was she to me? My neighbor, my friend, or something more? From what I'd heard, being friends seemed fine to her. But for me? She was the best day of sun in the too-long winter of my life.

Was a label really necessary to define what we were? I was going to play for Isabella. Bella-without-labels.

"Any preference?" I asked, surprised by my bashfulness.

She seemed to recognize and enjoy my discomfort. "What if you don't know it?" she challenged.

I playfully narrowed my eyes at her. "Try me."

"Actually, there's a piano piece I am particularly fond of."

"And that is?" I urged.

"_Solace_, by Scott Joplin."

I stared at the piano in silence. _Solace. A Mexican Serenade _– that was the complete title. It would be a serenade for her.

"But it's okay if you don't know it," she rushed to reassure me. "Just play whatever you want."

Her words were still lingering in the air when I began to play Joplin's notes. The music made any previous embarrassment fade and gave me the usual serenity. My pleasure was enhanced by knowing that I was playing what she had chosen.

"How long have you played?" she asked as the song ended and my hands left the piano keys.

I shrugged. "A while." I tried a couple of chords. Could I tell her the truth? A piece of the truth? "My adoptive father suggested I learn," I went on. "I was...let's say I wasn't a child anymore when I was adopted, and I had some issues with controlling my mood." _As a newborn vampire or as the lost boy I was, as you please_. "Playing the piano taught me discipline and gave me a way to spend my time."

"Does your father play the piano, too?" she asked softly.

"No." My voice went cold. I didn't have a father anymore."No. He's a doctor."

The bitterness in my words didn't go unnoticed. "Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to pry."

I tried to smooth my tone. "It's okay, Bella," I reassured her. "It's just that my adoptive family and I aren't on good terms anymore. I've some bad memories."

_Bad memories_. They were the same words Bella had used when I'd crossed one of her boundaries. Who were the ghosts haunting her?

"Would you please play something else?"

I smiled at her, grateful that she'd changed the subject.

She snuggled up against the arm of the couch, with her eyes closed, as the notes of _E lucean le stelle _by Puccini started to fill the room. I recalled why I'd chosen that song for her. Italian music for an Italian girl; a piece about the stars, as a reminder of our evening by the sea.

She didn't speak when the music ended. I had a question for her, instead. "Why did you pick that piece by Joplin?"

Her choice had intrigued me. Since the musician had died in 1917, I could have heard his music live in my human life. Not that I'd ever had the chance to attend a piano concert at that time. As long as I'd been going from one orphanage to another, music and piano had only been dreams for me. Then, in my short life on the streets, I'd lost my dreams. Merely surviving every day sometimes seemed like too much to hope for.

A day at the orphanage came back to me.

"_Someone plays the piano in the house down the street!" I whispered to Riley. _

_He waited for the teacher to turn his eyes from us. When the teacher began to write on the blackboard, he whispered back, "How do you know that?"  
><em>

"_I've heard it," I explained. "Yesterday afternoon Mrs. Varner sent me to clean the floor in the dormitory. The window was open, and I heard someone taking lessons."_

"_Do you remember Liam?" Riley asked. _

_Of course I did. The guy had been adopted two months ago. _

"_I eavesdropped on Mrs. Varner saying that he's been chosen by a loaded family, and they asked him if he wanted to learn to play the piano," he went on._

_I felt a pang of jealousy deep in my guts. Liam was one of the lucky ones who had been chosen. Just for a moment I wondered if, in his new home, he ever thought about us; then I realized that there was no point in remembering the misery that he'd left behind. Maybe Riley could tell me if there were other meetings with the families scheduled soon._

"_Do you..." I began._

"_Edward!" Mr. Banner yelled at me. "Aren't you supposed to listen to my lesson when you are in class?"_

"_Sorry," I muttered, bracing myself for the punishment I knew I was going to get. _

The memory faded like morning mist. I looked at Bella as if she were the rising sun – which she was, for me – while I waited for her to respond.

"My grandfather loved music," she recalled. "He wanted me to learn to play the piano, and when I was a kid he used to take me to piano concerts. One day the concert was about Joplin's music. By the end of it, I decided to take lessons."

I was surprised. "You actually play the piano?"

She shook her head. "Not anymore. I played it for three years, when I was in high school. Then I quit. End of story."

I was eager for more. "Why did you quit?"

Her eyes met mine. "Because I couldn't play like you do," she blurted.

I frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

She averted her eyes. "I had a lot of excuses, at the time. I said that I was quitting the piano lessons because I was already too busy with school, and I wanted more time to spend with my friends," she explained. "But the truth is that I didn't feel any fire inside me when I played. I was never looking forward to the moment I could be alone with my piano, and it was never the thing I loved most. Do you understand now?"

I nodded. Music was the language I spoke best, and she had just described, with great accuracy, the way I felt when I played.

"See?" she continued. "You know what I mean because you have that kind of passion. When you play, you can make other people feel that fire. You can tell them a story through the notes." She toyed with her fingers in her lap. "I quit because I believed that music wasn't for me, but for people like you."

"Music is for everyone who wants to listen to it," I stated. But I didn't want the afternoon to become a pointless debate. I wondered if she would answer my next question. "What story have you found in the piano pieces I've played today?" I asked.

Finally she looked at me and smiled. "I've already told you the story behind the first one. The second piece was _Tosca_, wasn't it?"

"Exactly," I confirmed, glad that she'd recognized it. "The romanza _E lucean le stelle_, from the third act of _Tosca_. How do you know it?"

"It's quite famous," she explained. "_Tosca_ is a tragic story, but that piece is also about the stars and the love for life, even when you have lost everything you wanted to live for."

The girl who believed that music wasn't for her had caught the very essence of what I'd played. I went to sit beside her on the couch. "Go on."

"Maybe it's silly, but the notes made me think about a little prince who looks at the stars," she said quietly. "Have you read the story?"

I nodded.

"I love the scene where the Little Prince struggles to see his planet among all the others, and thinks about the rose he left on it. He misses his flower so much."

"Why did he go away, if he cared so much for the rose?" I prodded.

She shrugged. "Because sometimes even the best little princes make mistakes," she tried to joke. "Or maybe because only by feeling how far away his rose was, could he understand that it was important to him."

"The stars, the roses," I murmured. "They are for princes, not for bad guys."

"But even frogs can become princes," she whispered. I didn't know if her words were meant for me to hear.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

And so _The Little Prince,_ by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, made its debut in this story. I guess it will be mentioned again.

Many thanks (and a piano concert) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **CorinneTate**, and **Jmolly**.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**)

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find links to Giacomo Puccini, _E lucean le stelle - "And the stars shone,"_ (_Tosca_).

Edward was reading Julian Budden's essay _Puccini: His Life and Works_, Oxford University Press, 2002, p. 439. The passage is quoted from Google Books.

The Rome badge is red and yellow, with a black wolf. I think that Jake would like it.


	7. Eyes

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 – Eyes <strong>

* * *

><p>Sunday, February 4, 2007<p>

Bella had left just a few minutes before. I lay down on the couch, wrapped in her sweet scent. What kind of magic did she possess? So simply, she'd made me understand the little prince's longing for his rose, as if the longing were my own. I fully understood how much the prince loved her. But it was nonsense. I couldn't know anything about love. I'd given up love since the blood of my first victim had run down my throat.

Just the thought of human blood made me recall how it tasted on my tongue. The memory was bitter. I'd spoken many times with Jasper and Emmett about their problem of keeping their bloodlust in control. I always wondered how human blood could be so much more compelling than animals'.

Once I tried it, I considered it overrated.

The blood of my first human victim had sated my thirst for a short while, but the void I felt inside had become even more painful. From one kill to the next, it only got worse.

I took a book from the shelf and put on some music so low that no one but me could have heard it. The room had been full of life when Bella had been there, and I'd felt at home. Afterward, it went back to its usual coldness.

I wondered idly why the little building, a relic from the '20s, had not been demolished to give way to the relatively modern condos surrounding it. The owners, however –or those who had inherited it– didn't want to live in it and rented it out. The original art deco furniture was long gone. It looked more like a hotel than the kind of home Esme would have been proud to present...I tried to stop that train of thought. I didn't want to think about Esme, the only mother I had ever known. That past was lost, as irretrievable as the people who had once lived within these walls.

How many stories deserving to be told had happened here? Who were the people who had hoped and laughed, cried and even died in the rooms that had become my last residence?

_Died._ I flipped through the book I'd chosen until I found a certain poem about death. Since I'd arrived in Italy, I'd read many books by Italian authors, and Cesare Pavese had become one of my favorites. Through his literary works, I'd come to know his tormented life, which ended with his suicide. Sometimes I felt that his road could mirror my own.

I murmured the first verse of one of Pavese's poems. "_Death will come and will have your eyes._"

The truth of these words had fascinated me since the first time I'd read them. They could move every reader, because every one of them would meet the same destiny, sooner or later. Everyone but me.

I'd never looked my prey in the eyes in the final moments of their existence. I didn't want to see the monster I was reflected in their irises.

"_This death that accompanies us/ from morning till evening, unsleeping_," I continued. Hadn't I been following my intended quarry for months? Wasn't I _unsleeping_ too? In that, I was more similar to Death than a human being.

"_Your eyes/ will be a useless word,/ a suppressed cry, a silence_," I read aloud. That sense of powerlessness was what I had wanted to create in my prey. I had made them live, from another perspective, the same torture they had imposed on their victims. An eye for an eye.

When I fed from animals, I was quick and merciful. Animals weren't evil, and they didn't deserve to suffer. With my human targets, I gave them what they, too, deserved – a slow death.

_Silence._ Even for me there was a hard limit in my memories. I shuddered, recalling the last thoughts of my victims and the fine sliver of time when I realized that the next swallow of blood was going to be the last one, before their mind became forever silent.

For decades I'd been flooded by people's thoughts, and I'd always longed for silence. But the only mental silence I could enjoy was the one afforded by death. Isabella had changed that. The peace her mind offered me didn't mean I'd taken another life. On the contrary, when she was with me I could muffle the screams echoing in my memories.

_Death has a look for everyone_, the poet had written. I put the book down.

Pity had its own look, and I remembered it well from my time at the orphanage. In the change from human to vampire, I'd lost many of my human memories, but the ones I'd have liked to forget were still stuck in my mind. Images of the prospective parents had never faded. Every time, only one of us was chosen for adoption. I had never been the right one.

I recalled the long, dark hallways, and the big open dormitory where it was always too cold. I remembered the scrutiny of the visiting couples, with their tentative smiles and furtive glances. I could tell they felt sorry for the other kids who would remain without a family. They were better than those who came to adopt the biggest and oldest among us. We all knew their lot would be hard labor on farms or in factories, but I would have gone gladly.

I used to feel ashamed, because in an orphanage every kid grew up too fast, and babies were always more likely to be adopted. I was ashamed because I was too moody, which was what the nuns said about me in hushed whispers. And I was ashamed because even though I was unwanted, I'd stubbornly been born into the world.

Another wave of memories flooded through my mind. Carlisle's serene face after my change, and his soothing voice as he explained what had happened to me – what he'd _done _to me! He'd told me how the thirst would become less intense after a while. With his warm voice, my maker had assured me that he was going to help me. Even when I was a newborn vampire, the thirst had been nothing new. I was used to being hungry my whole human life. Even more than the emptiness in my belly, I remembered the shame. My hunger was a constant reminder that I was poor, and I was poor because no one wanted me.

I'd also been poor for a short time during my vampiric existence. After I left Carlisle's coven, not a dime of Cullen money went into my pockets. I wanted nothing more from them. Finding a way to make money quickly hadn't been an issue, since I could read minds and I didn't need to sleep or buy groceries.

At first I'd considered becoming a thief. I was fast and I could read the thoughts of the people I was going to attack – I could even have fed on the worst of them. But then Carlisle's words had echoed in my mind: _With great gifts comes grea__t responsibility._ I'd been a poor and hungry human, a beggar and a tramp, but I'd never been a thief. I wasn't going to cross that line as a vampire.

It took me just a few days to discover that poker worked for me, instead.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Thursday, January 25, 1973

Spokane, Washington

The cards I held told me I was going to win the hand – the last one for the night in that particular gambling den. The thoughts of the few men who still lingered, waiting for the evening's end, revealed that they were getting suspicious of me.

_Look at that face, _an old man thought, taking in my features. _He hasn't moved a muscle. How long could he have been a player? He's but a boy, but acts like a champion. _He recalled the moment when the waitress had brought some drinks, bending over the table and revealing too much cleavage in my direction. _He didn't flinc__h e__ven when that chick showed him her boobs. If I were him..._A sneer appeared on his face. _Unless...on which side does he play? _

One of them gulped a shot of cheap whiskey. After his losses, he didn't even have enough to buy another one.

I shut out the frantic thoughts of my competitors as they considered their next plays. I kept my eyes on my own cards. The red hearts on the white surface reminded me of blood. I'd fed in the dawn light of the morning. The deer was a strong male, and he'd struggled. I was already sucking out his lifeblood when he jerked his head in throes of death. Blood had spilled. A single spurt, which had left a heart-shaped stain on the pure white snow.

I banished the memory, reprimanding myself for my lapse in judgment. I'd been taught better, since it wasn't safe to recall a hunt when we were around humans. The stench of alcohol muted the scent of the thick blood rushing through the veins of the people around me, but it was still appealing.

I distracted myself, focusing on the queen. A memory from three years prior came to me.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"I am the Queen of the night!" Alice proclaimed, laughing as walked back to the car during our trip to Vegas. Emmett had pestered us for weeks before we finally decided to spend a night in a casino.

"Just one night," Carlisle had warned. "I don't need to remind you to be careful." Carlisle didn't know we'd already taken one risk. A young con artist had provided us with fake IDs. Jasper's threat of what he'd do to him if they didn't work had nearly scared the kid into an early grave. But he swore they were the best.

We promised it was only for fun, and we wouldn't even stay a full night. We'd reassured Esme, telling her we'd donate any money we won. With Alice's predictions, my mind reading, and Jasper's emotional manipulation, we'd collected quite a bit in no time at all.

Emmett talked us into taking a break and pretending to have a drink at the bar. We studied the people who were crowding the gambling tables, making bets about who was going to win and how much. Then we'd joined them for another round.

In the backseat of the car, Jasper leaned down and nuzzled Alice's neck with his nose. "Come here, my little queen," he murmured, smiling as he left a soft kiss on her skin.

I pushed the accelerator, eager to take my leave from my mated siblings.

"Was it hard for you tonight?" Alice quietly asked Jasper. The casino wasn't very crowded, and we'd avoided being too close to people. But he was the one who had the most trouble controlling his thirst.

"No," he reassured her. I'd seen him swallowing a mouthful of venom more than once that evening, but from what I'd read of his thoughts, I agreed that his control hadn't wavered. "It was actually fun. Emmett, you had a great idea."

"Thank you, _King _Jasper," Emmett joked. He patted my shoulder, still laughing. "So, if Alice is the Queen and you're the King, Edward can be our Jack, right? The brave knight of the night – the hero of the casino," he joked.

x-x-x-x-x-x

_I call._ The end of the hand snapped me out of my reverie. One of the men flinched when I put down my cards, and he understood he'd lost. He was in debt, and the people he owed weren't going to wait for him to win. I tried not to think too much about it. By the time he'd have to confront them, I'd already be on my way to Chicago. I questioned myself for the umpteenth time about whether or not it was the right choice.

I collected my winnings and left the table. It didn't matter if Chicago was right or not; it was a direction, and it seemed better than wandering as I'd done in the past few weeks.

I silently walked toward the exit. I knew I'd won a lot, but it was less than half of what we'd won on that night at the casino. We'd split the money and kept our promise to donate it to charity, though we'd each chosen a different cause. I hadn't talked about my choice with the others. I didn't want to explain why my donation was going to a fund to help orphaned children.

I walked away from the city center, heading toward the outskirts of town and the woods. For humans, it was a freezing winter evening, and there should have been no one in sight.

I sighed in exasperation – I was being followed. The thoughts of the driver and his passenger gave away the reason I was being tailed. I moved quickly, pushing the limits of my human façade. I flexed my fingers as if I were fighting the cold, but there was a different fight going on inside me. Was I expected to run away from humans as if _I _were prey? As if I were a coward? I stopped.

A low growl reverberated in my chest as the car slowed down. I could turn, cover the distance with a leap, and tear the car to pieces – but no. I spotted a corner ahead of me. I ran and slipped down the narrow alley. The car followed, stopping at the corner and blocking my exit from the alley.

I hurried on, but came up short with a wall in front of me. I'd found a dead end – how aptly named.

I recoiled from the sound of the quick footsteps behind me. What I saw in my stalkers' minds wasn't new to me. I'd been assaulted in other dark alleys more than fifty years ago, when I was still human. I already knew how it felt, losing in a few minutes what had taken me hours of begging and scavenging to gain. But I'd become braver and fought back.

It hadn't taken long on the streets before I learned how to keep from getting robbed. But tonight I didn't need to fight. Tonight I wasn't going to experience the fear and insecurity that my adversaries were stronger than me, while they imagined me already beaten to a pulp. This time I had the upper hand.

"I'll block him, and you'll do the rest," one of the two men instructed.

Through his mind, I saw his comrade retrieving a jackknife from his pocket.

"Moe! What the hell do you have in mind?" the first one hissed. "We just take the money and run, understood? I don't want any blood spilled."

_So run away now, and nobody will get hurt_, I mentally sneered.

"And if he recognizes us? I don't want to end up in jail."

"So don't screw it up." The first assailant lifted the lapel of his jacket and ducked his head. "The alley is dark enough. Keep your head down and be quick. Nobody knows us here, and we'll give the guy a good lesson. He'll keep his mouth shut."

I turned slowly toward the two men who were approaching. The winter wind enhanced their scent, sending fragrant waves my way. They believed I had treasure for them: money to pay their debts. They didn't know that they also carried something precious to me. I licked my lips. _Pecunia non olet_, the Ancients had said._ Money doesn't stink_. Where it came from couldn't taint money enough to make it undesirable for use. Their treasure didn't stink, either. It smelled delicious, tempting me with the promise of warm, luscious comfort for my burning throat.

I didn't let them finish thinking about how they were going to block me, take the money, and run. I grabbed the first one by the neck, pushing him and shook as he grabbed his jackknife, but before he could come closer I kicked his hand, sending the weapon flying. My grip on the one who had tried to catch me hadn't loosened. His pulse thrummed in my ears, and his thoughts reduced to white noise, as he was going to faint at any moment. I lowered my head to his exposed throat.

My teeth grazed his neck. For the first time in my vampire existence, I wasn't going to slice through the fur of an animal to feed. I was going to tear human flesh – warm, white skin, not much different from my own when I was human. I glanced at his face. For a moment our eyes met. In his unfocused gaze, I saw the man I'd been before his parents were even born. I saw the desperation, the disgust for what I'd become, and my same anguish of being trapped in an existence of failures and struggles.

A strangled snarl tore out of me before I closed my lips over my teeth. I stopped breathing and ducked my head. My throat ached as I denied myself the drink.

Hoping that I was distracted, the second man tried to grab me around my shoulders. I kicked back into his shin, and his tibia and fibula cracked before he could make another move. He fell to the ground screaming, and I returned my attention to the first man. His eyes widened as he saw his accomplice clutching his leg and moaning in pain. I'd kicked him so hard, I suspected he'd always have a limp to remember this night.

I held the first man to the wall by his wrists. _An eye for an eye_ – the idea of leaving him with a reminder was tempting indeed.

"I beg you," he stammered. "I've got kids at home, and I did it out of desperation. I didn't want..." More lies. His mind showed that his kids weren't the reason why he tried to make money playing in that gambling den. The dough he had collected playing and cheating had filled the pockets of prostitutes and bartenders.

I folded his cheating, card-playing fingers into my hands one by one and clenched my fist. His screams pierced the night, followed by his ragged sobs. I could have toyed with them longer, but the craving to take a breath was becoming too strong. Just a quick gasp of air would have meant –

I shied away from the image of what would have happened in that alley if I had stayed.

I abandoned my prey and ran, chased by the men's howls of pain. Carlisle had always protected humanity from the danger I posed. His guidance had been so effective that since we'd met, I'd never hurt a human. Until this night. Little did I know then that the years in front of me were going to mirror what had almost happened that night.

I took a deep breath, letting the night air clear away the scent of the two men from my body and mind. _I haven't killed them_, I repeated to myself. I hadn't ruined everything I'd achieved in my half century of self-control.

But it wouldn't be long before I crossed that line.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Sunday, February 4, 2007

I quickly looked at my mail. Some bank statements needed my attention, so I checked over my investments. Even without Alice's talent, I'd proven I was good at investing. I'd traveled from one country to another, I'd rented houses or hotel rooms no matter their cost, and still it would have taken years to make a dent in my assets. In my human life, I'd never imagined that a single man could be as rich as I'd become. But my wealth was only being used to stalk my quarry.

Something twisted inside me as I thought about one little exception. Since I'd begun my lonely existence, the blanket and sandwiches I'd bought for Bella on our trip to the seaside had been the only things I'd purchased not to keep up my human façade, but for a friend. I held the blanket and inhaled deeply. Bella's scent was still on it, mingled with a hint of the sea.

I didn't know why, but every time I made Bella smile, or she appreciated a small gesture I had made for her, I felt as if I'd also given a little gift to that orphan who had never been chosen.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Thursday, February 8, 2007

Bella was due to come back from school any moment. I'd tried to listen as little as possible to Jake's thoughts and their conversations, to grant them privacy. But I couldn't help keeping an eye on her. Besides driving her to school on Tuesday and Thursday, I checked on her when she went out alone or came home from work. Just to know she was okay – right?

I wished her sweet dreams every night. Unfortunately, a monster's wishes didn't come true so easily. She continued to wake up screaming. Those were the moments when my control wavered the most. I had to fight the impulse to go to her and...then what? I would have only scared her more. Only in my daydreams could I imagine myself holding and caressing her until she fell asleep.

Suddenly music filled the room. It wasn't my playing; it was my phone. _Isabella!_

"Hey there," I answered. I tried to sound calm and polite, but too many scenarios about the reason for her call formed in my mind.

"Hi! I've just rented a movie, _What Women Want_,and I was wondering...have you seen it? Would you come here and watch it with me?"

I hadn't seen it, but I would have gone even if I'd watched it a hundred times. "Sounds good."

"Edward..." She hesitated. "You said you're on a special diet, but is there anything that I can prepare for you?"

_A cougar would be wonderful_, I laughed to myself_. Do you have a couple of them in your pantry? Or a boar, at least. _I wasn't going to lie to her, was I? "Come on, don't worry about me." I tried to keep a light tone. "Your company will be delicious enough, okay?"

She laughed. "Are you going to eat me?"

"Never," I said with conviction. It was a promise I was going to keep at all costs.

"So, see you later. Come by whenever you want. I'm at home."

It would be my first time in her home. I hadn't even asked if Jake was going to be with us. _Us_. I liked the way that sounded.

Bella was definitely magic. She had the power to make me feel like a human again – a very, very lucky human. Too bad it wasn't going to last.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift!<strong>

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><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

The verses are quoted from _Death Will Come and Will Have Your Eyes_ by Cesare Pavese.

Many thanks (and Edward's eyes filled with gratitude) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **CorinneTate**, and **Jmolly**.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**)

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_ story extras.


	8. Falling Star

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

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><p><strong>Chapter 8 – Falling Star<strong>

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><p>Thursday, February 8, 2007<p>

Wolves. Everywhere.

A giant picture of a wolf in the snow welcomed me in the hall. In the living room, a wooden carving showed a little wolf, made of some reddish-brown wood. How was it possible that Isabella's home resembled a museum of natural history devoted to a single beast?

She noticed my curiosity. "Wolves are Jake's obsession," she explained. "He's always been fascinated by them. It could have become a strange passion, but instead, it became what he does for a living. He's studying the wolves' way of life, and he's done research about many packs in different countries. Maybe he'll get a job in a national park, if he doesn't run off with a pack himself someday."

I was more interested in getting to know Bella than I was in Jake's professional goals. I looked for something that could actually tell me more about her. My sense of smell was actually more useful than my sight and helped me determine which of the many books filling the shelves were hers. I spotted a lot of classics, and I wondered how many of them would wind up on my reading list.

But among all of them, one was different. "Have you written a book?" I asked, incredulous.

She stopped fidgeting with the video player and looked at me. "Huh?"

I pointed to a volume. "This has your name on the cover."

She laughed. "Oh, _that. _It was my thesis. It kind of...got published. You know, for the other five literature nerds who wanted to read it."

I looked at her with wide eyes. She had published a book and dismissed it as if it were just daily routine? "What's it about?"

"I've studied some Italian rewritings of _Alcestis_ by Euripides. Do you know the story?"

I wanted to hear the story from her, but I didn't want to lie – at least not too much. "I've read it, but please refresh my memory."

She gave me a small nod before continuing. "Alcestis' husband, Admetus, was promised that if someone would choose to die in his place, the gods would allow it. No one volunteered, not even his elderly parents. Then his wife, Alcestis, stepped forward."

"Did her husband allow her to die for him?" I knew the answer, but I felt compelled to ask, eager to know her opinion of the plot.

She shrugged. "What can I say? Some men are jerks –at least they are in Greek tragedies," she joked. "Alcestis died, but the hero Heracles rescued her from Hades and brought her back home. So Admetus and Alcestis got their happily ever after, if it can be called that."

She went back to prepare the video player for the movie. She was struggling with the buttons, and I was hesitant to offer her a hand. "You can tell that I haven't seen a lot of movies since I've moved here," she apologized.

"May I borrow the book?" I asked.

"Sure. Greek classics are on the higher shelf, listed alphabetically by author." She pointed to the overloaded shelves behind me. "_Alcestis_ is among them."

I spotted Euripides' complete works and frowned. "I mean the other book."

"Which?"

I sighed. "Your thesis, Bella."

She burst out laughing. "Come on Edward, you don't want to read _that_. You must truly be an insomniac, in which case I'm sure it'll help."

I joined her laughing but didn't relent. "So, may I?"

She shook her head, as if she couldn't believe that I was interested in reading her research. "It's all yours," she said. "Go enjoy my theories on the ways love can overcome death."

I knew death too well. Was I ever going to know more about love? Could she be my guide? I couldn't help asking, "Can love actually overcome death?"

Her smile faded. "I want to believe so," she told me quietly.

The movie's opening credits appeared on the screen. "What's the movie about?" I asked, remembering the official reason I was there.

"A colleague recommended it. It's a comedy about a womanizer who becomes able to read women's thoughts."

I almost gaped at her. She actually wanted us to watch a movie about a mindreader. She never failed to intrigue me.

"I hope it's okay," she added.

"I'm sure it is!" I rushed to confirm. At least the company was the best I could desire.

She settled herself on the couch, which I suspected was Jake's favorite spot. His scent there was stronger than in the rest of the room, and it mingled with the smells of food and drinks. Was there anything he didn't do on his couch?

I wondered if Bella would snack during the movie. From what I'd seen, it was a human habit. Strangely, she only had a bottle of water beside her. I remembered she'd asked me if she could make me something to eat when she'd invited me. Maybe she wasn't eating because she didn't want me to feel self-conscious. I hoped I was wrong.

I sat on the couch beside her. As the movie began, I had to pretend to be interested in it. It wasn't bad, but the girl beside me was much more fascinating. She seemed at ease and relaxed on the couch in her comfortable clothes. I appreciated that she was wearing her overused sweats, which, from Jake's thoughts, I knew to be her regular outfit for home. She didn't seem to do anything to impress the people around her, and she didn't need to.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," I remarked, as she put them on. "What are they for? Just reading or watching TV?"

"I usually wear contact lenses, but I prefer glasses when I'm at home. I'm kind of blind as a bat, you know?"

"_It is only with the heart that one can see rightly_," I quoted, hoping that she would appreciate the literary reference. "_What is essential is invisible to the eye._"

She smiled brightly. "Remind me of that the next time I bump into a doorframe."

I shut up so we could follow the movie. We didn't watch much more, since the power suddenly went off.

It wasn't a problem for me, since I could see as if it were daylight. But Bella whimpered. I hated that she could be uncomfortable alone with me in the darkness. I went to the window, putting some distance between us. "It seems there's a blackout in the whole neighborhood," I observed.

Her heartbeat was faster than usual. If it had been a metronome, I'd have thought she'd shifted from a steady _Adagio_ to a slightly faster _Andante._

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes." Her voice didn't match her answer, and she sounded nervous. "It's just that I hate the dark. I'm okay if I'm outside, but inside...I don't like it. I guess I'm lucky that I'm not alone, or I wouldn't be so calm."

I was insanely glad that she felt lucky while she was with me.

"Feel free to make fun of me if you want. I know I'm far too old to have this kind of phobia," she giggled.

"I'll do my best. Maybe you'd like to hear a scary story?" I teased.

My words made her groan. "Frighten me and I'll kill you as soon as the lights come on," she threatened. She moved toward her room, one hand struck out in front so she didn't trip over anything in the dark. "I've got some candles in my room. I can try to get them."

"Do you want me to help?" I offered.

"Are you a cat? Can you see in the dark?" she joked.

"Of course I can – _better _than a cat." I wasn't lying; if the truth was unbelievable, it wasn't my fault.

She laughed. "Let's go find those candles, shall we?"

I followed her, and it was my turn to gasp: there were stars everywhere. A constellation twinkled above us on the hallway ceiling. "You have stars in your home," I murmured.

We both looked up. "I didn't know I lived so close to the Big Dipper," I told her.

She tilted her head in confusion at my words.

"Ursa Major," I explained. "In America we call it the Big Dipper."

"Oh, I see. Here it's called the _Orsa Maggiore– _the Big She-Bear."

From a big dipper to a big bear. The ancient people who gave their traditional names to the stars had been creative.

"How did you make it?" I asked, pointing at the constellation. Or had it been an idea of Jake's? I hoped it wasn't.

"It's made with phosphorescent stickers. Do you like it?"

"A lot."

"I love the stars. I was looking for a way to bring my favorite constellations with me, and so I made this. I told Jake it could go with his wolf theme. They not only howl at the moon, but also the stars, don't they? Plus no one but us would see them... I just didn't think about a blackout at the time."

I was pleased that the stars were her idea. "Did you make other constellations as well?"

"Just a couple. One is here, and the Pleiades are in my room." She paused. "Do you want to see them?"

"Only if it won't make you uncomfortable."

She smiled. "Come. I still have to find the candles."

From her room, she had listened to me while I played the piano at night. I knew it wasn't a good memory for her, but I could imagine her under the blankets, surrounded by the notes I'd played. Due to my enhanced senses, I could have heard her voice even from another street. I liked the idea that she could hear me, too. It felt intimate. We were close even when we weren't together.

I wondered how her room looked in daylight. It seemed she was fond of light, bright colors. The walls were a cream shade, and the white curtains, with a delicate embroidery on the hem, made the room appear spacious. Her furniture didn't seem expensive, but it was well matched. Had she chosen it?

On her wooden desk, partially covered by a pile of school books, I spotted some tests and a red pen. Was she working on her students' grades before I arrived? On the opposite wall she'd hung some framed pictures. From the monuments they showed, I could tell that they had been taken in Italy and abroad.

One photo caught my attention. The picture had been taken in France, in Mont-Saint Michel. I'd never been there, but I could recognize it from other photos I'd seen of the famous attraction. It showed a younger Bella, staring at the sea. What was she dreaming about as she looked at the horizon?

Her voice claimed my attention. "Can you see them?" She pointed at the ceiling.

The Pleiades shone above us.

"They're perfect," I murmured.

How many times had she stared at the stars in her room, before falling asleep? Looking at her bed, covered by a green comforter, I imagined her like a rose on the grass, under a starry sky.

Bella rummaged in a couple drawers beside her bed. When we went back to the living room, I saw she had not only the candles, but an envelope.

"You recognized Ursa Major right away. I didn't even think I'd been very accurate with the stickers."

"I also like the stars," I explained. "You know, they're always the same, but they've seen so many things change under their light." _Just like me_.

Bella lit the candles and curled up on the couch, her chin on her knees, her arms around her ankles. By the candlelight, she had golden flecks in her eyes. Our voices both dropped lower than usual.

"I learned to recognize the constellations while I waited for a falling star," she recalled. "In August, they're at their highest concentration, and I stared at the sky for hours. If I had seen a falling star, I probably would have wished... to see another one!"

"Let me guess... you went to the beach to stare at the sky."

She giggled. "You know me well, Edward."

_I'm eager for more. _"What would you wish for on a falling star right now?" I asked.

"Besides the electricity to come back on?" she attempted to joke.

"Besides that," I insisted.

She seemed to concentrate, staring at the candle as if it were hypnotizing her. She shrugged. "I don't know." She raised her eyes and looked at me; her face glowed in the soft light. Her gaze roamed my features, and I wondered how her fingers would feel on my skin. "May I give it to you?"

"What?"

"The wish," she whispered. "May I ask the falling star to make your wish come true?"

I was dumbfounded. "I think it worked," I murmured.

She tilted her head, curious.

"My wish can come true," I explained.

"Would you tell me what you wished for?" she prodded.

_You. Just being here with you. _"If I tell you, it breaks the spell."

I wondered if I could make a wish come true for her, too. "There's a planetarium near Florence. Have you ever been there?"

She shook her head.

_This just might work. _"In the spring, there's a program to keep some museums open even in the evenings, and they offer special guided visits at night," I went on. "If you want to pick a day, we could go there together.

"Really? That would be great!" she exclaimed. "May I pick a day right now?"

I loved her enthusiasm. "Sure. Go ahead."

"Let's see... April thirtieth?"

I hid my disappointment. That was too late – I'd be gone by then. "Why that day, is it your birthday?" I wondered if I could find a way to make her choose another date.

"No. It's school break, so I'll be on vacation."

_Damn. It makes sense_. "So April thirtieth it is," I agreed in resignation.

She smiled brightly at me. "But now I'm curious. Is it _your_ birthday?"

I tensed at her line of questioning. "No." I could be earnest about that, at least. "Mine is June twentieth."

I saw the next question coming. "How old are you, by the way?"

"More than one hundred," I answered, deadpan.

She laughed. "Come on, I've never seen anyone look so good for his age," she teased. "You could organize a bonfire for your birthday, you know," she continued to joke. "Instead of one hundred birthday candles for your cake."

"Would you come to my birthday party?" The words came out unfiltered. It would be my first birthday party ever – quite the special event. In my human life, I'd never had anything to celebrate on the day I was born.

"I'll be sure to keep the day free."

_Don't count on it. You'll have forgotten me by then. _

Isabella retrieved the envelope she had brought from her room and handed it to me. "As part of an early birthday present."

"New earbuds?" I joked.

"Worse," she threatened.

I opened the envelope, glad I couldn't read from her mind what it held. The surprise wasn't spoiled. Several star stickers fell into my palm from the small package. "They're the same I've used for the ceiling," she explained. "So you can make your own Big Dipper, or Big Bear, or whatever you want to call it."

I grinned at her. "I'm the luckiest guy ever. Who gets stars for his birthday?"

She looked down, grinning too, and a lock of hair fell on her face. I leaned toward her and brushed it away. Could I dare to kiss her my thanks? After all, I was the early-birthday guy, wasn't I?

The flash of the light made both us jump. _Welcome back, damn electricity_.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light, and I did the same, just to keep up appearances. She gave me a tight smile. Could she see my disappointment, or was she disappointed as well?

"About the movie," she began. "It's getting pretty late. Can we finish it tomorrow evening?"

"Same time tomorrow it is."

I went back home, with Isabella's stickers in my pocket. But my North Star wasn't among them.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Friday, February 9, 2007

I headed toward Bella's home, lost in thought. I wasn't thinking about the movie that – power permitting – we were going to see. I remembered instead my time as Edward Cullen, when I'd have come home after a day spent in school and felt relieved, knowing I didn't have to hide anymore. Strangely, I felt the same relief in Bella's presence.

As Edward Masen, I could compare the relief Bella provided with her company to taking off a shoe that didn't fit, after a long day. _Shoes? Unfitting shoes?_ Something made me think of a darker version of Cinderella. No wonder I was recalling fairy tales: Bella was doing her magic to turn my existence into an actual life.

I had to admit, I was letting my defenses down with a human, when for eighty years humans had been my only reason to build any.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Thursday, February 8, 1973

Chicago, Illinois

Motionless, sitting on a bench, I had been staring at the Chicago skyline for hours. Nobody considered me worth a second glance. The thoughts of the people walking around me were a bubbling concoction in my mind; then they became just a buzz, like the wind that was still blowing. _The Windy City._ I hadn't been there for more than fifty years.

I examined the buildings, one by one: how many of them were older than me?

At the orphanage, Miss Varner had told me I'd been found on a windy day. The nurses were afraid I wouldn't survive, but I had been strong enough. _What a fluke_. The fuzzy image of Miss Varner sank back into the fog of my human memories.

All the information Carlisle had collected came to my mind. I could remember every detail perfectly. They were nothing but a few names, dates, and addresses. A grouping of numbers and letters was all I could cling to as proof that my human life had been real.

I walked along the lakeshore. The buildings were all changed, and they didn't elicit any memories. The people who had known me as a human had probably walked there, but how many of them were still alive and could remember me?

It was too late.

Neither the buildings nor the dead could talk to me. My human life was summarized in the documents Carlisle had given me. All that I was fit neatly into an ordinary envelope. I had to admit, Carlisle hadn't lied. It had taken him a long time to find out who my parents were. No wonder, as he was looking for people who didn't want to be found.

Edward Masen didn't have anything but his rage, a bunch of fading memories, and many unanswered questions.

Edward Cullen had lost everything he had.

Which was my true identity? I didn't have any certainty left.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Friday, February 9, 2007

I glanced at the ceiling as I entered Bella's home.

"Are you checking if the stars are still in place, Edward?" she teased.

The brightest star was in front of me, leaning against the doorframe, with her arms folded in front of her chest. I liked the contrast between the dark long-sleeved t-shirt she was wearing and her pale skin. Her hair, loose on her shoulders, framed her face in a way that accentuated her playful smile and sweet gaze. I smiled down at her, wondering why she seemed slightly shorter than usual, until I saw that she was barefoot. I loved that she appeared at ease. Was she also letting down her defenses when we were together?

"How do your stickers work?" I prodded. "If one of them comes off, does it count as a wish on a falling star?"

"Nice idea," she scoffed. "I'll let you know if it happens."

"I'll count on it." I would have happily wished for another blackout, hopefully longer than the last one, but it seemed that no falling star was going to oblige me.

We went to the living room and sat on the couch. Less than twenty-four hours ago, every detail of the room, and Bella's routine, were new to me. Now I could tell how she was going to sit –with her legs folded underneath her– in what I supposed was her usual place. I was expecting that she would squint her eyes while watching the movie –maybe she needed to pay a visit to her optician. She was holding the remote control in her lap, as she had done yesterday.

I looked at the bookshelf. The only missing volume was in my living room.

Bella motioned to the books. "Anything interesting?"

I nodded. "I've read a fascinating essay about Alcestis. I've also met the author."

She blushed, catching my reference to her thesis. "Please, don't tell me that you are actually going to read it."

"Maybe I've already flipped through it," I told her nonchalantly.

Her eyes widened. "You must be kidding."

I smirked at her. "Try me, Professor." I'd read her thesis word for word; I could have quoted it by heart.

She shook her head, giggling. "Not even my best friend has checked a single page of it. You would be the only one reading that paperweight for any reason but necessity."

"I like what I've read." Wasn't she aware that she was brilliant? "The way you discuss a spouse who can give her husband such unselfish love – stronger than any parent's love or even stronger than death. It's compelling." I stopped, afraid that I'd revealed too much. I hadn't experienced the kind of love she'd described so well in her research. But with her academic essay, she'd made me long for such a strong bond. I tried to think of a joke that could get me out of the quandary, but she was faster.

"Edward, you haven't just flipped through it, have you?"

I wasn't going to lie; she'd accurately deduced that I'd read it. I only shrugged. She stared at her hands in her lap. I worried if she was wondering why I'd given her work such attention. Or was she curious about my reading speed?

She opened her mouth but didn't speak, and I held my breath. I was getting ready to face her questions when she smiled and switched on the movie player. "I bet watching the movie will be more fun than reading my thesis."

I drew a breath of relief. The movie went on smoothly, eliciting some laughs from us both.

A scene caught my attention. The main character, who was a newbie mind reader, had overheard that his coworker was planning her suicide. He noticed only because of his mind reading ability, and he managed to save her at the last minute. Without his gift, she would have died.

I'd never used my talent in that way. I recalled some words from Carlisle, but Bella snapped me out of my musings: she shifted in her seat, staring at the TV screen. As soon as I looked at her, she mumbled _sorry_ and ran away.

I heard her soft crying, and her heartbeat was faster than usual. I paused the movie, wondering what had happened. What could I do for her? I knew better than to ask if she wanted to talk about it. I was good at waiting, so that's what I did.

I paced, then went back to look at the stars on her ceiling. The stickers she'd given me were still on my desk. All but one. I'd stuck just a little one, close to the window of my living room. From there I could look at her window, and at the room of my North Star.

I heard Bella breathe deeply to regain her composure, and the sound of splashing water came from the bathroom. Her heartbeat was calming. As she came back to the living room, I tried to smile at her, but I couldn't manage to banish my worry.

"Sorry for the interruption," she apologized. "Let's finish the movie, shall we?"

I gave her a nod, reaching for the remote control. We watched the characters get their rainbows and sunshine, and we even read the final credits. Only then did I look at her.

As had happened in my car on our way to the pier, it seemed that Bella was lost in her thoughts, wandering in a sad place. Wherever she was, I would have loved to hold her hand.

I stood, and she mirrored me. Brilliance failed me, and all I could think to say was, "Thank you for inviting me."

"Thank you for coming," she said quietly.

With her head bowed, she escorted me to the door. I hoped that her roommate would come back home soon. I didn't like leaving her alone when she was still so sad.

She broke the silence. "May I ask you something?"

"Anything," I assured her.

"Tonight could you..."

I hid my disappointment as the words faded on her lips. _Don't run away again. Please. _

"Would you play for me?" she asked, so softly that her voice was an unsure whisper. "I can hear you from my room when you play," she went on, "and it would help me."

I felt an unusual warmth spreading through my cold heart. Could I actually do something good for her? "I will," I promised. If she enjoyed my music, it meant that all the decades I had spent studying and composing had been worth it.

From my piano bench, I could see that a dim light was on in her room. I began to play, not choosing anything specific author. I played by ear all the evening, listening to Isabella's heart.

I set to music the way she laughed when I joked, the moments when I feared that she could see too well through my pretenses, and the ones when I wanted her to know everything about me. I set to music the embraces I wanted to give her, and the ones she had made me feel just with the tenderness of her gaze. Bella's heartbeat slackened, and I changed my tune. The notes of a lullaby began to dance in the night. After a few minutes, I understood that she was sleeping.

_Goodnight, my princess_, I wished her.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Many thanks (and a movie date) to **Camilla10,** **Marlena516**, **CorinneTate, and Jmolly**.

_An Italian Winter_ story extras are posted on **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** - there are different images for each chapter.

"_It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye," _is a quote from _The Little Prince_ by Antoine de Saint-Exupery.

"_Who will deny it?/ Is there a higher excellence/ than this, that a wife should die her husband's death?" _(Maidservant in _Alcestis _by Euripides, _Epeisodion_ I). Have a good reading!

This chapter's literary suggestion is_ Novecento_, by Alessandro Baricco. It is the tale of an extraordinary pianist who was born and lived on board of a ship, the Virginian. Music is his whole life, and he's incapable of getting off and facing life on land. The story was made into _The Legend of 1900_, a 1998 movie. A quote from the movie: "_Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why?_ I think land people waste a lot of time wondering _why?_. Winter comes, you wish it was summer. Summer comes, you live in dread of winter. That's why we never tire of travel."


	9. Knife

_**An Italian Winter**_

For those who wanted to know more about Bella's past...you're getting some answers.

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

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><p><strong>Chapter 9 - Knife<strong>

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><p>Tuesday, February 13, 2007<p>

The chattering thoughts of the students outside Bella's school made me remember what day it was. Or better, what day was coming: the only one in the year when I blessed the fact that I wasn't mated.

Wherever they were, Carlisle, Jasper and Emmett were going to do something nice for their mates. Not that I'd ever experienced it firsthand. For me, Valentine's Day was the perfect moment to go off alone for a long hunt.

Driving home after taking Bella to work, I caught the voices of a couple of teenagers.

_No way he's going to remember to buy me a gift tomorrow_, a girl thought."I can't believe that there's still someone so silly to give his girlfriend a box of chocolate on Valentine's Day," she said to the guy who was walking beside her, holding her hand.

"It's a tradition," he mumbled. _Although last year I forgot that it was Valentine's Day._

She shrugged. "Come on, can't they think about something less cliché?" _Bet that tomorrow he will forget about Valentine's Day again? At least I won't be disappointed_, she went on in her mind.

The poor guy recalled the box of chocolate he'd already bought her. In his memories, I saw that she'd caused a scene the year previous because he'd forgotten. This year he was trying to be prepared. _Is there any way I'll ever make her happy? _he wondered in defeat.

The trail of their thoughts faded in the distance.

How many couples over the centuries had experienced the same skirmishes? For each of them, those little misunderstandings seemed new and unique. For me, it was the same show – the play of life, where I wasn't but a spectator. Even those childish dramas were part of a life that had been denied to me. Snorting at those trivial human traditions, I felt my existence was too similar to the tale of _The Fox and the Grapes_.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I stared at the silver rose on my piano, as if it could advise me what to do. When I'd bought it, the rose had reminded me of Bella. The flower wasn't going to wilt or die and could be a way for her to remember me, even when I'd gone.

I scoffed at my sentimentality. Was I worth being remembered?

I sat at the piano and began to play the song I'd composed for her. I reconsidered some chords and made a couple changes on a variation. The melody was nearly complete.

Since the first night Bella had asked me to play for her, I'd played every evening. She hadn't said a word about it, but she'd slept without interruption. I was soothed by the sounds of the calm rhythms of her peaceful, nightmare-free sleep.

I would have never imagined that my music could help someone I cared for. The simple fact that I cared for someone, let alone a human, was beyond surprising. I remembered how much Carlisle enjoyed how his enhanced abilities let him save patients who would have been lost otherwise. He could take comfort knowing that, thanks to his abilities, some people's lives were made better. Even his sense of smell was a diagnostic tool for him at times. But my skills and my mindreading abilities hadn't been put to any use but to select my victims. How could I imagine being anything other than a danger in anyone's life?

I wished that Bella could always count on me, even if only for a little music. But since I was going to leave in a matter of weeks, I couldn't promise that I would be there for her anymore. _Could I consider staying? _My hands stilled on the piano keys. Could I actually stay? For how long? Could I give up everything I was planning to do in Italy? The questions began to torment me. One of them, more pressing than the others, haunted my mind: _What do I really want?_

A car turned onto the street, with the well-known noise of its engine: Jake was getting home. A few minutes later, I heard him laughing with Bella.

"So...are you going to be my Valentine?"

I caught his question. The words made me remember how it felt to be punched in the gut.

She snickered. "Come on, what do you have in mind?"

I didn't block them. On the contrary, I sifted through his mind, looking for more about his intentions. What I read in his musings reassured me: he considered her just a friend. But I was aware that things could change for them, with time. Maybe in another six months, or in a year, they wouldn't be just best friends anymore. And I would only be a fading memory.

"Whatever you want sounds good to me. A dinner, perhaps? You can choose the place."

"I'll get you a box of chocolate," she teased. "A _Baci_ box. You can eat the _Baci_ for dinner and spend the evening reading their love notes."

The idea of Jake stuffing himself with chocolate made me snicker. From what I could gather from his mind, the guy I'd overheard outside Bella's school had also bought those chocolates called _Baci_ for his girlfriend. They were considered very romantic: each of them represented a kiss and was wrapped in a love note. I wondered if Bella had ever received them as a gift, and from whom.

"Bella, humor me," Jake insisted. "We just need some fun and we haven't got a date with anyone tomorrow."

"How do you know?" Despite the light tone of her voice, her words gave me another hard punch in the gut.

"No way you have a date," he retorted, dismissively.

"Wow, thanks...why? Because no one would hang out with a spinster like me?"

He laughed at her indignation. "No. Because if you had a date, I would be the first to know. And you haven't asked me for advice since...hold on, since you went to the piano concert with the neighbor...what's his name again, Edwin?"

I began to pace the room.

"It's _Edward_," she pointed out, "and you know it."

Through his mind, I admired a very flushed Bella.

"You are not going out with him tomorrow night, are you?" He articulated each word with playful slowness.

I stopped in my tracks and held my breath. Was it a possibility? Could I ask her out and hope that she would say yes?

She sighed. "Okay, you're right. I don't have any date tomorrow. So, dinner together it is."

I could almost see Jake beaming at her. "Since you didn't get me a box of _Baci_, it's the least you can do."

I retrieved my coat and went out. Time for a long, long hunt.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Friday, February 9, 1973

Chicago, Illinois

My next stop in Chicago was the orphanage that, almost sixty years before, had been my last abode before I became a tramp. But a mall had been built in place of the orphanage I remembered. Another piece of my past was lost. Even the buildings of my time were disappearing.

I recalled the few facts I had.

Dates. 1899: the year when I was born and dumped by my own parents. 1919: the year I lost my human life.

Numbers. More than thirty: the number of children's homes in Chicago by 1910. Between two hundred and nine hundred: the number of children housed by most of them.

A memory resurfaced.

"_I'm moving to Minneapolis," Miss Jessica told me. "I'm getting married, and my husband got a job there," she explained. Her voice was warm as usual, her gaze kind, but she spoke slowly, as if she knew that her words were saddening me._

"_I'm happy for you," I mumbled. She was the best teacher we'd ever had. But she deserved something better than spending more time with us._

"_Edward." She called me softly and met my eyes. "I'll miss the time I spent here. You're a bright boy, as you showed in every lesson." She smiled one of her bright, open smiles. Was she recalling all the times I'd discussed the books she gave us to read?_

"_You know...I wonder if you gave us so many books because if we were busy reading, we couldn't do much damage."_

_She laughed, and I joined her. "I hope you'll continue to read so much." _

"_Will do." _

_She had another volume in her hands and gave it to me."I've picked this one from the school library. It could be a useful story for you. I don't think you read just to keep yourself busy. You seem to enjoy books more than any other student I've met." _

_I decided to share one of the few happy memories of my childhood. "There was a nun at the first orphanage where I lived. One day I fell and scraped my knee. I was scared, there was a lot of blood – I mean, to me it seemed a lot – and I was crying hard. She reassured me and told me a story. I pestered her until she began to tell stories to all of us. When she read, sometimes I really felt as if she could bring us to another world with her words." I let out a small chuckle. "To a better one."_

The book Miss Jessica suggested was the story of an animated marionette called Pinocchio and of his poor father, a woodcarver named Geppetto. More than the moral teachings of the novel, I'd been fascinated by the adventures and the rebellion of the puppet: Pinocchio ran away from his father, from the school, even from the policemen. I never got to finish the book, though. I'd moved to another orphanage and left the novel behind.

I entered the first big bookshop I could find and purchased Pinocchio's story. With it, I could say that Edward Masen's life was summarized in some pages of old documents _and_ in a book. I got the novel out of the shopping bag and caressed its cover. With my finger, I circled the letters of the book title: _The Adventures of Pinocchio. _"Adventures" sounded like a good word. _The Nightmares of Edward _was quite a different tale.

I finished reading the novel and laughed out loud. It turned out the puppet wanted to become human and he got his happily ever after. The book was about a change from freak to human. Who knew at that time that I would go the opposite direction? I hadn't been granted my happily ever after even as a human and wasn't going to get it as a vampire. I didn't like _Pinocchio_ anymore.

I threw the book in the Chicago river.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Friday, February 16, 2007

I stared out the window at the street. I wasn't going to miss the street, or the buzzing of my neighbors' thoughts. But I'd certainly miss Bella's mental silence. My thoughts were so full of her I could almost hear her heartbeat and footsteps from the street. _Wait._ It _was_ Bella, carrying two huge bags of groceries.

"Put the bags down and wait for me!" I yelled to her out the window.

She looked around, trying to understand where the voice had come from. She smiled when she saw it was me waving at her. "Thanks, but I really don't need it."

I pretended I couldn't hear her, and I rushed to help.

She appeared flushed by the strain of carrying the bags. Wasn't her roommate supposed to give her a hand with that stuff? I eyed the supplies she had bought and wondered if humans bought enough groceries to last a lifetime every time they went out.

"Usually, Jake and I go to the grocery store together," she explained, answering my unspoken question. "But he's spending the weekend out of town attending a conference, so I took the bus."

"You could have called me," I offered. I wasn't the right guy to give her any advice about groceries, but I could at least drive her to the store.

She giggled. "What is this? Your personal version of _Driving Miss Daisy_? I've survived for a while without being driven wherever I go, Mr. Masen."

"Can I ask you why you don't drive?"

Her smile faded. "I guess you can," she answered dryly. "Do you have time for a cup of coffee?"

I nodded and lifted her grocery bags. Oddly enough, she didn't object further and led me toward her home. Was I going to gulp down a coffee just to spend some time with her, or could I include it among forbidden drinks in my secretive special diet?

She frowned. "Unless... you said you're on a special diet, didn't you?"

Was it her mission? Was it possible that every time I entered her home, her main concern was to try to feed me?

"Bella, what did I say to you?" I playfully warned her.

She quirked an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Don't worry about me. I'll watch you drinking a coffee, or better, I'll try to not stare at you drinking a coffee." We were both going to taste something aromatic, but her scent was only to be inhaled.

"I can fix you something different, if you can't drink coffee."

"Bella..." I warned her again.

She gave me a smile. "Okay, I get it. I'll shut up."

As we entered her home and the corridor I was already familiar with, I looked at the stickers on the ceiling."No falling stars yet?"

Her eyes twinkled in amusement when she looked back at me. "You are very fond of this childish idea, aren't you?"

_Don't y__o__u know of whom I'm fond?_ "Never miss the chance to get a free wish," I joked. Following her, I brought the grocery bags into the kitchen.

Being there for the first time felt strange. The feeling was too _human_. In many vampires' minds, the word 'human' held different connotations –none of them flattering. I inhaled. Bella's kitchen smelled of baked food and of the care she put into it. The little details made the room look like her.

There was a fork left on the counter, like she'd just used it to stir something. I could smell a faint trace of milk, and I guessed she'd spilled some earlier. I didn't feel like a predator at the top of the food chain, entering the nest of my prey. Being welcomed into her home made it clear to me that I envied humans and longed for the comfortable simplicity of their life.

I remained rooted to the same spot, staring at her as she was putting on her coffee.  
>She turned, and her eyes widened. "What are you doing, still holding the bags? Put them down. They're heavy!"<p>

I almost let them drop. Was I supposed to notice the weight? They felt no heavier than a straw in my hands. I gave her a nervous smile and averted my eyes. It reminded me of the way she'd behaved when she'd first come to my house. She'd been embarrassed and stared at her feet. But unlike her, I wasn't ashamed of anything I did or said, but because of the abnormal creature I was.

"Would you help me to put the groceries in the pantry?" she offered.

"Sure!" I rushed to accept, grateful that she was providing me with an opportunity to keep my human pretense in place. It was another reminder of how different we were, though. I didn't have any pantry to fill.

I helped her to separate the foods that went into the fridge from the ones that went in the pantry, as if it was the world's most exciting task.In its simplicity, it was a familial moment. Too bad that it wasn't _my_ family. I didn't belong in Bella's home.

I recalled one of those quiz games where there was a series of objects and you were required to find what didn't belong among them.I was the outsider here. _Here_ as 'in this kitchen' – it was a real room for real people and not the cold scenery I had at my house. _Here_ as in her company – a vampire with a human. _Here_ as in 'on the Earth' and in my existence. Being the outsider was what I'd been for a century.

We sat down at the table, and I watched her stirring the sugar into her coffee, inhaling its aroma from the steaming cup.

"So...you want to know why I don't drive," she said softly, her eyes fixed at the table.

I murmured my yes.

"I had a car accident last year. Let's say that my car wasn't in good shape after that, and I haven't driven since then." Her voice was quiet, as if she was telling someone else's story, but her tense posture gave away her discomfort.

I straightened in my seat, leaning toward her. I longed to touch her. The thought that for a cruel twist of fate she could have died –that I wouldn't have met her– made my chest ache. I grazed the back of her hand with my fingertips. "Were you hurt?"

She shrugged. "I spent a week in a hospital, if that's what you're asking. I was driving too fast and I hit my head, or so they told me. I don't remember much of the accident itself..." Her voice quivered.

I couldn't see her as a fast driver. Had something made her drive that way? Was it the reason behind her nightmares? I leaned my hand on her fingers. She didn't flinch but looked warily at our hands on the table. "Does it still upset you?" I murmured.

She tried to smile but didn't manage more than a sad grimace. "I guess I owe you an explanation. First I trouble you because you play the piano at night, and then I ask you to play for me in the evening. Kind of weird, isn't it?"

"You owe me no explanation, Bella." I lightly squeezed her hand. "I would never put you under pressure. You can tell me anything. _Anything_. But it's always your choice."

"It's the first time I'm talking about it. In my hometown, everybody knew what had happened." She took a breath. "And everyone talked too much about it."

As she looked me straight in the eyes, I nodded in encouragement. I knew too well how heavy a burden could be when you didn't have anyone to share it with. Was she aware that she could open up to me?

"The day of the accident," she began, "I had just heard that Mike had died."

I froze. She'd screamed that name so many times that hearing it whispered seemed strange. I hoped that she was going to continue and let me know who Mike had been. _Who he had been_. I'd wondered if he was a boyfriend or someone who had hurt her. Finally I was learning something real about him.

"Was he..." I left the sentence incomplete and felt bad because of it. Didn't I have the courage to ask her about the nature of their relationship?

She shot me a glance, as if she'd understood what I was implying. "I still call him Mike. It was the nickname his schoolmates had given him," she observed, her voice hollow. "_Michele_ was one of my students, and I was the last person to see him alive."

I could smell her tears even before the first of them ran down her cheek.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I need a glass of water."

I watched her opening the draining rack and stretching to reach the glass. I stood up, thinking I could offer her my help. But I screamed in my mind when, reaching for a glass in the suspended draining rack, she touched a badly-positioned knife with her elbow, making it slide down toward her other arm.

A knife falling.

Her arm below it.

Her skin cut.

Her blood spilling.

I jumped toward her.

Too fast.

Too strong.

I shoved her away, and the knife handle shattered in my hand before it could reach her.

"Are you crazy?" she screamed at me.

"You...the knife...it would have hurt you..." I stammered.

She looked at my seat, and I could almost see her doing the math. She frowned, then looked at the seat again and back at me. _Too fast. I'__ve been too fast_, I inwardly cringed. "How..."

"I was standing behind you," I stated as firmly as I could, before she could complete the sentence.

She shook her head, as if she was trying to clear her mind. "I'm confused," she muttered.

I swallowed down the venom. It was like gall on my tongue. The monster had immediately alerted to the idea that Bella could provide him a tasty meal, and I didn't dare to touch her or get closer. "It's okay," I reassured her, my voice in control again. _So much for comfort._

She looked down and gaped.

_Too strong_. The knife's blade was still in my fist. I dropped it, but it was too late for her not to notice it.

"Your hand...you must have been..." _Cut. Bleeding. Hurt. _She balked. Her eyes were full of unshed tears. Could her vision have been blurred enough to not have fully seen what had happened? She blinked, and hot tears fell on her cheeks. Her gaze met mine, and I saw myself reflected in the wide mirror of her eyes.

She went back to her seat, and I blessed the distance she put between us. "Can you explain to me what happened?" she demanded sharply. Her heartbeat was too fast, and her blood was screaming to be taken.

Another mouthful of venom wet my tongue as I thought about what I'd just prevented. I couldn't fail now. "The knife would have cut you, and I freaked out." The sweet scent of her blood grazed my lips. I stopped breathing.

"It wouldn't have been the first time I cut myself in this kitchen. It was just an ordinary knife. It wasn't as if I was in mortal danger," she said coldly.

_You don't know how wrong you are. _"I'm sensitive to the sight of blood," I muttered. "Sorry." My supply of oxygen was almost depleted. I needed air to talk to her, but I didn't trust myself enough to take a full breath of her scent. "It's better if I go," I mumbled on an exhale, then dashed out.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift!<strong>

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><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Many thanks (and no knives, LOL) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne Tate**, and **Jmolly**.

_The Adventures of Pinocchio_, (1883) by Carlo Collodi is one of the most popular books ever. Have you ever read it?

The scene between Bella and Edward in the kitchen was written during my first Emergency Beta Service Writing Boot Camp, where I met the lovely Marly. If you don't know Emergency Beta Service, run to check their website! (**h t t p : / / emergencybeta. com/**) They rock!

The fable of _The Fox and the Grapes_ has different versions. The Latin one is by Phaedrus: "Driven by hunger, a fox tried to reach some grapes hanging high on the vine but was unable to, although he leaped with all his strength. As he went away, the fox remarked, 'Oh, you aren't even ripe yet! I don't need any sour grapes.' People who speak disparagingly of things that they cannot attain would do well to apply this story to themselves."

_Driving Miss Daisy_ (1989) is not only a movie about an old woman and her chauffeur, but is also a 1987 play by Alfred Uhry.

Michele is a common Italian name; its English equivalent is Michael.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**)

On **h t t p ****: ****/ ****/ ****myreadinglounge. ****blogspot. ****com/** you can find twific recs and reviews, author interviews and story extras. There's also a "Writing Lab" with writing tips and experiences!


	10. Razor's Edge

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

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><p><strong>Chapter 10 – Razor's Edge<strong>

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><p>Friday, February 16, 2007<p>

I drove for hours like a madman. Surely I was mad, though just as surely I was not a man.

Isabella had opened up to me, and what had I done? I'd frightened her with my absurd behavior, when she most needed someone who could comfort her. Once again I'd failed. Had I ever been anything other than a failure?

Who was I trying to fool? I was the last person who could stand as a friend for her. She didn't need my protection; she needed protection _from _me. Just the thought made me scream, and my feral growls shook the car.

By the time I arrived at the sea, it was dark. I left the car on a deserted street and ran toward the beach. I didn't care that someone might see me while I wasn't bothering to keep a human pace. I was out of my mind. If I'd met anyone right then, I wouldn't have had the control to leave them the opportunity to tell what they'd seen.

The sea water I splashed into was freezing. It made me remember the warmth I'd felt in Bella's home. Her welcome had been warmer than the apartment, as she'd invited me inside her cozy retreat and treated me as a friend. I'd marred even her safe haven with my loathsome presence.

I swam in the open sea, where a human would have already died of hypothermia.

But not even Death wanted me.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Saturday, February 17, 2007

It was almost four in the morning when I got back to my place. The distant thoughts of a drunken guy wandering after a night in a pub, shuffling toward his home, represented the only noise in the sleeping neighborhood. From the street, I looked up at Bella's windows. All the lights were off. I sought her heartbeat. She was sleeping. She was safe.

A mess stared back at me from the bathroom mirror. My clothes were soggy and sand-encrusted; my hair was bristled from the salt. I looked like garbage expelled from the sea. Had I ever been anything but garbage?

I let the scorching water of the shower pour over me for so long that I idly wondered if the ceiling would come down because of the hot steam. It wouldn't hurt me, anyway.

Thoughts of Bella continued to haunt me. She could have been cut and bleeding in her kitchen, had I not caught the knife in time.

From many different perspectives, I envisioned myself swooping down on her like an eagle on a lamb. I imagined every detail: my nails ripping her silky skin, my sharp teeth finding their way to her wound, and my mouth sucking the life out of her.

"Never," I stammered, imagining that the fake tears on my cheeks created by the shower were real.

The tempting vision of Bella's body squeezed in my hands without restraint, of her in my lap, on the ground, enclosed in my lethal embrace, took shape in my mind.

"Never," I repeated. The idea of a world where she didn't exist anymore made my knees tremble.

"Never!" I cried, clenching my fists.

I wanted to hit a wall, but it wouldn't have hurt me. I couldn't atone for my wicked fantasies that way. What was I thinking? I'd thought of Bella as a challenge on so many levels. Did I really believe I could dance on the razor's edge, simply by not lying to her and trying to be her friend? Clearly we were on the razor's edge, but only she could get cut.

I went to the piano. In the darkness, the keys made me think of a line of shells on the shore. I just stared down at them, without playing. I could recall every single note I'd ever performed. On so many nights my fingers had grazed those keys, as if they were the only pet I could keep in my lonely existence. But for the first time since I'd learned to play, the piano didn't hold any promise of a new melody. It didn't elicit any desire to compose a new song.

My hands stayed limp in my lap while I slumped on the piano bench. They were the hands that had played for Bella, making me proud of them. They were the hands of a killer, though. I wished they were useless. Useless would have been better than bloodstained.

My attention was caught by the sound of Bella's heartbeat, as it began to increase. She was having nightmares.I heard her turning and tossing on the bed. She was so soft. Warm. Alive. Her breaths were like a sea wave, and I waited for the moment when the wave would crest and crash on the shore.

The moment came.

I cringed, knowing that the name _Mike_ would become her miserable scream. The scream came. But it wasn't Mike this time.

"_EDWARD_!"

My name, uttered by her in a strained sob, caused me pain like nothing else had been able to inflict so far. She considered me a nightmare; she was afraid of me. I'd earned such punishment. I couldn't ask to be forgiven, so I voiced the only thing I dared ask.

"Please, Bella," I begged. "Please, forget me."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

_When does the night end?_ I wondered. In the woods where I'd been hunting, I looked at the sky as it became lighter. But the new day still had a lot of layers of darkness to dispel before dawn. Every day the sunrise took the same path, chasing the same shadow line. How many thousands of days had I seen when I wasn't supposed to be roaming the Earth anymore? How long had I been on the shadow line between life and death in the hospital where Carlisle found me?

"Why didn't you let me go?" I spat at my maker, as if he could hear me. "Are you satisfied now?" The sound of my voice echoed in the lonely woods. "Do you enjoy knowing that I'm trapped between life and death?"

The faces of the people who –because of me– weren't going to see a new day coming, joined me in my outburst. "Where is your compassion, now, Carlisle?" I yelled. "Didn't you feel compassion for them?"

The answer to my questions came in the form of a memory. I recalled the reason why my sire, after changing Emmett, had vowed he would never make another vampire. On two occasions, my brother had killed humans. Through his thoughts I'd seen the faces of the two women who'd died because of his thirst and would never go back to their families.

The first time he'd slipped, I'd helped him come back to our family. I tried to push away the memory of what we all had gone through, to no avail. The words our father had spoken to him replayed in my mind. It was then Carlisle shared with us his promise to never create another killer. The second time, I'd feared that my brother was lost for good. Again, Carlisle had reached him where no one else could go.

He'd returned her husband to Rosalie, her son to Esme, to Jasper, Alice and me, our brother. We'd been relieved. Only one of us, in the silence of his study, had spent a thought for the husbands who wouldn't see their wives again because of Emmett's lack of self-control. Carlisle had prayed for those nameless humans.

My prey were nameless, too. I'd never wanted to know anything more about them than the charge that had brought them in front of the most pitiless judge and executioner they could have ever met. But I knew well the name of my next target. I knew his name, his face, and his medical record. Wasn't he lucky to have met such a good and caring doctor?

I didn't go home at seven in the morning. I ignored the sound of my phone ringing. My hand clenched and unclenched around it. Just a little more pressure, and I wouldn't have had a phone anymore. I recalled what I'd told Bella: "_If there's anything that you need...here's my phone number. Twenty-four/seven..._" Just another lie.

The phone went to voicemail, but she didn't leave a message.

"Take the damn bus," I hissed. Did she actually wonder why I hadn't shown up to drive her to school? After the way I'd scared her, how could she even think of being alone with me?

An incoming text demanded my attention.

_I'm calling in sick, no school today. How are you doing? Please, call me. - Bella._

I switched off the phone and leaned my forehead against a tree._ You don't want to know how I am, believe me. _

When I looked at the sky again, the sea of blue told me it was a sunny day. _Wonderful._ Hadn't I worried that, sooner or later, the sun would show on a Tuesday or Thursday? Even if the incident at her home hadn't happened, it was inevitable that the sun would have forced me to avoid her eventually. If I was to go back home, I had to do it now, before the light was too bright.

Instead I chose to stare at the sky until darkness fell.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Thursday, February 22, 2007

I'd been able to answer all the questions that had crossed my mind in the past fifty-five hours. The answer to every question was the same: _You'd only make things worse._

What if Bella needed help? _You'd only make things worse_.

What if Jake hadn't come back yet, and she was still alone at home? Same answer.

Could I try to talk to her, to make her believe that what she'd seen was just a fluke? The thought became tempting. The idea that maybe I'd blown things out of proportion began to appeal to me. What if she wasn't as scared as I supposed? Could we...

I stopped myself, disgusted by my own boundless eagerness.

How could I get home and leave for good, without Bella seeing me?

That was a smart question, finally. It was the only one that made me move to go back to town. By the time I arrived, she wasn't home, as I well knew. I could pack and leave in the middle of the night, just like a thief.

When I heard the knock on the door without any accompanying thoughts, I caught my breath. Was I hallucinating? Could ears hallucinate, too? It was only wishful thinking. She couldn't be there.

"Go away, I'm dead," I said, too low to be heard. I wasn't lying.

But even while I tried to convince my mind it wasn't thinking clearly, my body acted on its own. I opened the door.

"Bella," I murmured to the girl on the threshold. My word was a praise, a sigh, a prayer that she wasn't going to fly away.

"Hey," she muttered.

For the longest time we remained in silence, unable to continue our meaningful conversation.

She gave me a half-smile. "May I come in?"

My body was definitely acting on its own; I actually motioned her into the foyer. A number of possible things to say and ask came to my throat, but none of them left my mouth. I was happy because she was with me, scared of her questions, and altogether confused. _Please, Bella, stay, _I silently prayed to her. _Stay here, stay in my days. Just a little longer_.

"How are you doing?" I asked at last. After a century of studies and experiences, I wasn't able to formulate any smarter question.

She shrugged. "I'm fine. I had a bad cold and spent two days without going to work, but I'm better now." She didn't avert her eyes from me and didn't show any need to examine her shoes for once. I enjoyed the sight of her face, her full lips and her sweet eyes, as if I were an art lover in front of his favorite painting.

But I had an elephant to kick out of the room. Too bad I couldn't just drain it.

"About what happened last week..." I began, without knowing what was I going to tell her next. I was trapping myself, indeed. But I owed her an explanation of _some_ kind.

She stopped me. "Edward." Her smile was gone. "I don't know what _actually_ happened. We were both shocked...for different reasons, I guess. But I'm not here to discuss it."

_No? _I just nodded, to encourage her to go on.

"I'm going to Venice next week. Schools will be closed on Saturday and Sunday, and I'm spending the weekend there. You know, there's the _Carnevale_."

I frowned. Why was she telling me? Did she want me to check on her home while she was away, as a good neighbor? _Don't worry, Bella. I'll be your vampire guard dog. I don't bark, but I bite._

"Alone?" I managed to ask.

Her smile came back as she shook her head. "Would you come with me?"

_Would I? _Many different options flooded through my mind. I considered whether I might have imagined everything that had happened in the last week. Was I dreaming? Was I asleep? Was I crazy?

"I...but...how..." I babbled.

"There's a train that can take us directly to Venice city center. I booked two seats and two rooms in a small hotel," she explained. "I thought it could be nice doing it together, and I wanted to talk to you about it, but I haven't seen you lately..." Her lower lip was tortured by her teeth. No wonder, if she was already regretting her invitation.

"Your invitation…is a surprise." I admitted. _Understatement of the year._

"I can cancel, if you want," she rushed to tell me, disappointment clear in her face.

I quickly stopped her. "It's a pleasant surprise." I smiled at her. "I've never been to Venice, and I would be very happy to go."

Her eyes shone with enthusiasm. "So, see you Saturday morning? The train leaves at ten o' clock in the morning."

"Until Saturday," I confirmed. "I'll pick you up at nine-thirty."

She turned toward me as she left my house. "I know that something strange happened at my home," she told me quietly. "But you are a good friend, and I would never push you into talking about anything that would make you uncomfortable. If and whenever you are ready to talk to me, I'll be here."

Then she walked away, without waiting for my answer. Not that I had anything that I could tell her.

So, were we back on the razor's edge? What could I hope to gain? Just a few more days together?

Whatever it was, I couldn't let it go. I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Saturday, February 24, 2007

I stared at the sky in disbelief. _Not today. Not now_. I'd been betrayed by the sun twice in a week. How was it possible that the sun decided to perform at its best in a winter week?

I paced nervously in what had suddenly become my prison. A couple of chairs in my living room were the first to meet my wrath. I growled at the sky, but it didn't care and continued to smile at me. I had to be very careful to switch on the television, since the remote seemed to beg to be crushed by my exasperated hands. The silly voice of a stupid anchorman cheerfully confirmed that the weekend was going to be sunny. Very, very sunny.

Bella's invitation had given me a new light, a flicker of hope. But the mocking sun – shining in all its glory in front of me – had burned it out.

I reached out a hand and held it under the sunlight that was filtering through one of the big windows of my living room. My repulsive skin began to sparkle. _Monster_. I grimaced. _This is the skin of a killer. _I looked up at Bella's window. Listening to her heartbeat, it seemed that she was still sleeping, just a few feet from me. We were supposed to leave in an hour.

If handling the TV remote had been hard, managing to dial her phone number was almost a mission impossible. I had to lie to her; I was going to let her down. Again.

She picked up the phone on the third ring. "Edward!" Even if her voice was still sleepy, she made me feel wanted by just saying my name aloud. "What's up?"

"I'm sorry, but there's a problem," I began, every word heavy on my tongue. _Straight to the point. _"I have to stay here. I can't go today."

"No," she murmured. I cringed, sensing her disappointment. "May I ask what's happened? Are you sick?"

"I'm not feeling well." At least it wasn't a lie.

"Is there anything I can do? I can cancel and stay here, if you need..."

"No," I interrupted her. "You've organized this trip, and you deserve some fun. I'm so sorry for not being able to join you, but there's no reason for you to cancel."

"Really, Edward, we can do it another time, I'm worr–"

Again I stopped her. "Don't," I told her firmly. "Here's something you can do for me: _do not worry_. Just enjoy your trip and try to be happy. Knowing you're having fun will help me a lot, you know?" I even managed to chuckle.

"Will you call me if anything changes?"

"I will."

"May I call you later or tomorrow, to check how you're doing?" she asked tentatively. Her caring attitude made me feel a sweet, pleasant warmth.

"Sure," I assured her. "Call whenever you want. I'll be home." Where else could I go?

"So...take care," she added.

"Bella? May I ask you another thing you can do for me?"

"Anything."

"Be safe."

I listened to the sounds coming from her home, until, from my window, I saw her leaving – alone.

The vision of her mingled with the memory of the psychic sister I'd left back with the Cullens. With Alice, none of this mess would be happening. She would have warned me, and I could have refused Bella's invitation when she'd proposed it. The memory of all the times I'd scolded Alice because she was too pushy with her warnings didn't hurt, at first. But in a matter of seconds, the thought of our last encounter covered everything else with its bitterness.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Not even a cloud marred the sky for the whole day. It was one of those dry winter days when the North wind swept the sky clean. Despite the cold, the thoughts of the humans in the neighborhood told me they'd enjoyed the weather. Maybe they were comforted by the implication that, sooner or later, the harsh season would be over. Spring, with the promise of new life, wasn't far off anymore. It would be my time to leave. It would be the right time for my revenge.

_By now, Bella must have arrived in Venice_, I thought, looking at the sky as the sunny day was almost over. I imagined her arriving by train at the salty lagoon, and I wondered if she was going to rent a mask and join the _Carnevale. _Did she dream of being someone else, just for a single day? If a mask could be enough...who would I want to become? The answer was very simple: a man who could walk with her under the sun, who could merge with her among the tourists, telling her that –no matter the_ Carnevale_– I would have recognized her, even in disguise.

_In disguise..._

What if I actually could?

I grabbed my credit card, cell phone, and car keys. Too slowly, the sun finally set. Then I ran outside.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

My entry for the Age of Edward contest 2012, "Little Dart," is on my profile. Meet Eruthros!

**h t t p : / / www. fanfiction. net/ s/ 7795650 /1/ Little_Dart**

I have entered the_ New Moon_ Round of** The Canon Tour**. Go read, review, vote!

Many thanks (and no razors, LOL) to **Camilla10, Marlena516**, **Corinne Tate**, and **Jmolly**.

Today (February, 3) is **TwiArcady90**'s birthday! Edward is playing _Happy Birthday_ for you, my dear!

The life is full of shadow lines. In his novella _The Shadow Line_, Joseph Conrad depicts the development of a young man; the shadow line of the title represents the threshold of his passage from youth to adult age.


	11. Mask

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

In this chapter we get to know Elisabeth's maiden name - it's a homage to my beloved Oscar. I hope that Earnestward and Italianbella approve. The lovely Irishmic calls them "Neighborward" and "Adorabella"...and you? Suggest your -ward and -bella for _An Italian Winter_! Please note that if your PMs are disabled or if you review anonymously, I won't be able to reply to you.

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11 – Mask<strong>

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><p>Saturday, February 24, 2007<p>

As I'd told Bella, I'd never been to Venice, but I could recall a novel set there. The words of _Death in Venice_ resurfaced in my memory. She probably hadn't even been born when I'd read that book.

The story hadn't given me any desire to see Venice, though. Thomas Mann's descriptions made me imagine a gray, humid city. I'd already spent too much time in places like that, which were the only ones that allowed me to go outside during the day and keep my nature hidden.

I recalled a scene from the novel: the main character, Aschenbach, felt contempt for an elderly man who was trying to create an illusion of youth using a wig, makeup, and foppish attire. I'd been disgusted by that description, but wasn't my condition even worse? My false, eternal youth wasn't meant to attract lovers, but prey.

The city described in _Death in Venice_ seemed to be a place where people could hide behind a façade. With Bella, it would have been different. She didn't need any masquerade to be amazing. I recalled the ripe cherry color of her lips and the creamy silk of her skin. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. It was as if her scent was still close to me. I imagined getting lost in the purity of her eyes. The thought of her made me recall another passage by the same author:

"_This was love at first sight, love everlasting: a feeling unknown, unhoped for, unexpected –in so far as it could be a matter of conscious awareness; it took entire possession of him, and he understood, with joyous amazement, that this was for life." _

_Life_. She had brought me life, even in my existence devoted to death.

In Mann's story, Aschenbach fell in love and roamed the city, following his beloved. Like him, hadn't I walked through different continents, stalking one target after another?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Friday, February 16, 1973

Chicago, Illinois

Visiting the campus of the University of Chicago, I resumed my litany.

_Dates_. 1892: The year when the University of Chicago was founded. 1902: The year when the Law School opened its doors for classes.

_Numbers. _Sixty-seven: students enrolled in the Law School in 1902. Thousands had attended since, Edward Masen senior among them. He was just a statistic. As I visited his alma mater, it occurred to me that, oddly enough, the school was younger than me. As a student, he'd seen these same buildings, spent his time reading books and preparing for tests in the same library I was walking by. I imagined him taking a break during a busy afternoon, perhaps thinking about my mother and counting the hours before they could spend the evening together.

Had he loved her? I supposed so. Otherwise, why would he have spent more than sixty years with her?

But when Edward Masen started attending the law school, any relationship I could have had with him was already over. I'd reconstructed his story following Carlisle's notes, but there was a black hole in his file that I couldn't fill. He took a leave from his studies in 1899. It seemed that he'd left the city. Was my mother with him, or had he left her behind?

_I _was that black hole. When the brilliant Edward Masen arrived at his alma mater, when he graduated and started his career, I was already a foundling. _I _was the one who had been left behind.

The thoughts of a group of students distracted me for a moment. I absorbed their relief: they were looking for a break at the cafeteria. So little was needed for them to be happy.

I kept walking among the buildings of the university, until there were only a few people. On a Friday night, everyone but me had something better to do than roaming these boulevards.

The ache in my throat was becoming painful. I hadn't fed for more than ten days, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer. The question that had tormented me for the last weeks pounded in my head: animal or human?

It would be my eternal dilemma.

Why did Carlisle change me, only to force me to deny my nature? Fool that I was, I was still following his rules, while he judged me a murderer all the same.

I scanned the thoughts of the few students who were still lingering in the college. Through their minds, they unwillingly shared their plans for the evening and the weekend, their dreams, their worries, the events they wanted to delay and the ones they were looking forward to.

I could erase the future of one of them. I could change the life of a girlfriend who wouldn't see her boyfriend tonight, or of the parents who were going to wait for their daughter to no avail.

How could I decide? Hearing their thoughts was only making the task more difficult.

_It helps a little if you think of them as people_. The memory of Alice's words, when she tried to encourage Jasper in his restraint, hit me like a whip.

How could I take on the burden to choose a human life to end?

I walked away briskly. My throat was burning after I'd teased it with the prospect of a rich meal, only to deny it. More than by the people's thoughts, my mind was invaded by their different scents. I had to find a distraction.

I pushed my human pace as fast as I could. The university was finally well behind me. But when I entered an alley, I had to stop in my tracks. I gasped with the scent of fresh blood and leaned against a wall, my head spinning. I sought out nearby thoughts.

_That little shit won't do that again._ The man wasn't far. I followed two different blood scents on him, while his thoughts summoned me. _He won't talk to the cops again. _Only one trail of thoughts.I focused on the images of a fight flickering through his mind. There had been other men with him, and a boy lying alone on the ground. _Don't kill him, just teach him a lesson._ Three against one. _Let me have some fun._ Fists, kicks, laughter. _Will you keep your mouth shut next time? _Whimpering.

In the man's mind, I saw the final blow he'd given to the boy. A vicious kick had sent his victim's head into a step. Blood drenched the dirt on the ground. The poor guy wasn't going to make it.

I crept up on the man after his companions had fled. He was left with the job of cleanup, and he finished beating the kid to a pulp. In the dark alley, I couldn't smell anything but blood. The youth was a lost cause, but the man's hands were covered in blood – mostly from the kid, but some from his scraped knuckles. His blood pulsed through his body, as yet untapped. His mind obsessed with other details of the fight, but with no repentance. I'd seen enough.

The intense taste of my venom demanded my full attention. My thirst was going to be soothed soon.

Who was going to miss a coward who had just bullied and beaten to death a helpless young man?

The man jerked when I grabbed him by his shoulders. Before he could finish swearing, I tore his jacket open and lowered my lips to his neck. The worn, thick leather of the collar had warmed his skin, enhancing the heady scent of his blood. My body hummed in anticipation as I held his back against my chest, eager to savor everything he could offer me.

For the first time in my existence, my teeth pierced human flesh.

Everything around me disappeared. There was no room left to pay attention to the surrounding alley, nor to his last snatches of thought. I was overwhelmed by the wave of satiating sweetness that was grazing my lips, filling my mouth and quenching the pain in my throat.

I gulped the first mouthfuls of rich nectar, growling in pleasure. I licked my lips and took a full breath, beaming at the knowledge that there was more of that delicious nourishment to come. The abject terror of the man, who went limp under my grasp, soiling himself, did nothing to stop me or elicit an ounce of compassion. What I was clutching in my stony arms wasn't a human being anymore, to me. He'd become just the source of the velvety pleasure coursing down my throat, the vessel that held the refreshment I'd craved for over fifty years and that Carlisle had denied me. I drained the corpse to the last drop. With a deep breath, I filled my lungs with a last trace of scent, trying to bask in the satisfaction it provided.

Disinclined to move, standing in the alley, I sluggishly got reacquainted with grim reality. Only the ingrained discipline made me look for a place to conceal the body, lest it caused concern. I'd always done it with animals and so I did it for...the man I'd killed. The thought sent a shiver down my back, but only much, much later would I be able to reflect rationally on what I'd done.

I had ended a life.

But I'd also avenged the innocent my prey had killed. What if, by stopping this delinquent, I'd prevented him from killing others?

Had I found a new direction?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Saturday, February 24, 2007

A traffic jam slowed me down, forcing me to drive at a crawl for over a mile. Finally, the road became clear again. A glance at the speedometer told me that, continuing to drive at that speed, I would arrive in Venice in less than a couple of hours.

By the time I left the highway and entered Mestre's city center, I'd already made phone arrangements for a hotel room. My first choice would have been the Hotel Danieli, but it was fully booked for the weekend, as well as all the other hotels in Venice I'd checked. I had to avoid Bella's hotel, but I guessed that it would have been fully booked at that point, too. I settled for the best accommodation I could find in the closest city, Mestre.

The main part of my plan took more time to be accomplished. In the end, only a passionate plea and a promise of a generous tip guaranteed that a typical, complete Venetian costume would be delivered in my hotel room in the evening, despite the very short notice.

_It can work_, I continued to repeat to myself. _It's crazy, but it can work_.

I had to take a couple of deep breaths to collect myself before entering the hotel.

A cold glance from me made the receptionist stop thinking about what she would have liked to do with me in the suite. I didn't let her complete her detailed mental list. I grabbed the keys and rushed to my room, eager to check the costume. My chance to be with Bella again, even during a sunny day, depended on it.

A big box was waiting for me on a table in the center of the room. I hoped I'd gotten the details right over the phone. I could speak Italian well, but the mask maker's strong Venetian dialect had been difficult to understand. Eventually, we'd settled for a _bauta_, which he'd told me was a whole face mask.

But as I ripped its elegant wrapping and opened the box, the object that was revealed appeared to be more than a simple Carnival costume; it was truly a work of art. I carefully took the golden _bauta_ in my hands; it shimmered under the light of the lamp. It could help me: should by chance a small part of my face became visible behind the mask, my sparkling skin could easily be mistaken for the reflection of the _bauta_. I followed the profile of its stubborn chin line with a finger, appreciating the refined details. There were two holes for the eyes, but the mouth would remain covered. I was fine with that; I didn't need to eat or drink, and the mask would muffle my voice.

I put the mask aside and looked at the other parts of the costume. There was a red and golden brocade scarf that I was going to use to wrap my head. With its bright colors, the costume wouldn't go unnoticed, but from the descriptions of other costumes I'd gotten from the mask maker, it could have been worse. There was a contest for the best mask, and most of them were made with gesso applications and golden leaf, decorated by feathers and gems. By comparison, even my mask seemed too simple.

A black hat and a long black cloak, with gloves of the same color, completed the outfit. I'd brought a pair of black pants and a black shirt that would match it.

When I put the costume on, I wondered how humans could bear such a torture. How could they breathe behind the shield of the mask? How could they move wrapped in the thick cloak? It must have been heavy for them. But, for my purposes, it was a good choice: not even an inch of my skin was exposed.

I glanced at my watch; it was late in the night. I pondered a phone call to Bella, since she hadn't called me yet. When I finally decided to dial her number, I got the message that her phone was off. My imagination ran away with me, driving me crazy. Where was she spending the evening? Was she alone? What if something had happened to her? I was about to search the city for her when my phone chirped, signaling an incoming message.

_I left the phone at the hotel, sorry. I guess u r sleeping by now. Hope u r feeling better. Talk to you soon. - Bella_

The reference to my sleeping would have made me laugh, if it hadn't been accompanied by the upsetting mention of her in a crowded city, at nighttime, without her phone. Good thing she was finally back in her hotel room. As soon as she woke up, I was going to be by her side.

I spent the night reading a tourist guide about Venice. In a few hours, I memorized the city map and the history of its most interesting monuments. I tried to see it through Isabella's eyes, wondering what she would prefer. I was fascinated by the idea of a city that was, both, suspended between the sea and the sky, and a bridge between Western Europe and the Orient.

But more than the erudite artistic and historical descriptions, a quote by the Italian writer Italo Calvino came to mind. For his book _Invisible Cities_, Calvino had imagined that Marco Polo, one of Venice's most eminent citizens, explored the Empire of the Great Kan and wrote about more than fifty imaginary cities in his travel report. In the end, it turned out that, with every city, Marco Polo was remembering and describing something about his beloved Venice and his longing for it.

I recalled the cities I'd visited: Chicago, Springfield, New York...milestones in the Masen family story. Those cities had helped me to reconstruct some missing pieces of my human past; even my journey to Italy had been determined by the choices and the history of a family that had never wanted me.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sunday, December 25, 2005

Detroit, Michigan

Two prey in a single night. It had been a while since I'd had such a big meal. According to the growing crime rate statistics, I never lacked criminals to drain – year after year, there were even more, their crimes increasingly more notorious. Humans proved very creative when they had to find a reason to kill.

The thought of the victims I'd just saved with my double kill didn't last more than a few minutes. In the first years of this lifestyle of mine, it had given me a handful of hours of comfort, sometimes lasting even a day or two, especially when I'd saved a child. The memory of the first time I'd read the mind of a pedophile, more than twenty years ago, still gave me a surge of anger. By now that little girl, who was still alive because of me, had become a woman. I wondered if she was married, if she had her own children. More than anything else, I wondered if she was happy.

For the umpteenth time, I went through the documents about my human past collected by Carlisle.

First birth certificate. Edward Masen Sr.

Second birth certificate. Elisabeth Wilde.

Knowing their birth dates told me that they were very young when they conceived me. According to Carlisle's notes, a friend of my mother had told him that Elisabeth and Edward dated for a long time. How had my sire made her talk about her friend? I imagined how the dialogue might have gone.

"_Of course I know who lived here! Elisabeth and I were friends when we were at school," the elderly woman said to the remarkable young man who claimed to be interested in buying Elisabeth Wilde's family house in Springfield. "After she and her husband moved to New York, we kept in touch for some years. You know, my beloved Lee was a friend of her husband. Edward and Elisabeth had been together since they were children. I was afraid that they were going to break up when Elisabeth got ill..." Her voice went lower._

"_Ill?" Carlisle politely urged. Surely the impeccable manners he used with his patients had encouraged the woman to tell him more._

"_It was...let me see...in 1899. I remember it because I met my Lee at a party for New Year's Eve. Romantic, isn't it? The start of a new year and the beginning of a new love. Elisabeth didn't join the party. She said she'd gotten a fever. But her condition worsened. Her mother told me that it was better to avoid visiting her, since she was tired and very weak. By the summer, her mother took her to Chicago. When they came back, Elisabeth was fine again and everything went back to normal. As soon as Edward finished law school and began his career, they got married."_

Carlisle had provided even the marriage certificate. August 13, 1905. I was already in my second orphanage at the time.

Even after so many years, I cringed when I looked at the third birth certificate. The one that wasn't supposed to be there. The little piece of paper had the power to hurt me more than anything else.

Anthony Masen, son of Edward and Elisabeth Masen.

Born in Springfield, October 6, 1917.

I was the brother of a single son.

Neither the elder, nor the younger son of Edward and Elisabeth Masen, had a death date.

I'd researched about Anthony Masen who, as a soldier, joined the Second World War.

Destination: Italy. He went missing in action and never came back.

I'd never been to Italy. It was time to book a flight and get there.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Sunday, 25 February 2007

I couldn't know that, among all the cities of the world, a small Tuscan town would become the only one I could call home, just when my life was coming to its end. I couldn't have imagined that, in an anonymous street in that town, my path would cross Bella's.

And I would have never supposed that I, the first Masen son, was also going to die in Italy.

I stared at the Venetian dawn in the hope that it was going to be a cloudy day. If so, I could have called Bella, telling her that my problem was solved – it would have been the truth – and I would have joined her in Venice. Instead, the sun came out and confirmed that I had to put on my new façade.

It was early, but the first train to Venezia Santa Lucia, the city center station, was already crowded with tourists. Children smiled at me and pointed at my costume. I tried to shut out the people's thoughts and looked out the train windows. Bella had been on this same train less than twenty-four hours before.

I bet she'd enjoyed the view: the railway was on a bridge – thanks to my nightly readings, I knew it was called _Ponte della Libertà_, the Freedom Bridge – surrounded by the sea. Seeing the seawater opening around me as the train ran toward Venice, I was reminded of what I felt when I swam at full speed. It was one of the few things about my nature I truly enjoyed. Eyes closed, I basked in the memory of the salty breeze on my skin, of the waves parting like curtains, pushing my limits and never finding them.

Unbidden, Bella appeared in my daydream, beside me in the open sea, on a summer night, under the starry sky. I realized that, had I been a human man, I would have pursued her romantically. I wouldn't have sought any falling star on a night like that; I would have cherished her body and made love to her. But I was not a human man, and I wasn't free. My existence was predicated on taking my revenge, and soon I would cease to exist. The idea that I could wish for anything different was unsettling. And yet, here I was, pursuing her to Venice. Why?

The train came to a halt. As I stepped out, the stream of thoughts in the crowded station became overwhelming. I had to get used to it, since it wasn't going to be any better in the city, given the Carnival. I weaved my way through people who were arriving and those who were leaving. I swallowed venom, trying not to think about the scents enveloping me. But it seemed that the venom was coming out at full force. I inhaled deeply. Once. Twice.

I knew that scent.

I looked around me. The trace led me to a platform where the ferry boats to the smaller islands of the Archipelago departed from. Isabella was there. And she was leaving.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

_Death in Venice _by Thomas Mann is a short novel which offers an unusual view of Venice. _Invisible Cities _by Italo Calvino is a complex, fascinating book, which can provide many layers of interpretation.

Many thanks (and Edward's mask) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne Tate**, and **Jmolly**.

_An Italian Winter_'s Edward is getting next week off (there's actually the _Carnevale_ in Venice!). The next chapter is due on February, 24 - FFnet permitting.

In the meantime, there are some new stories on my profile: "**Little Dart**" is my entry for the Age of Edward contest. "**A Good Liar**" and "**Sun Ray**" are my entries for the Canon tour - New Moon round. They fared well, and I'd like to thank my fabulous betas/prereaders and everyone who read and voted.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).

On **h t t p ****: ****/ ****/ ****myreadinglounge. ****blogspot. ****com/** you can find twific recs and reviews, author interviews and story extras. There's also a "Writing Lab" with writing tips and experiences!


	12. Bridge

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 12 – Bridge<strong>

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><p>Sunday, February 25, 2007<p>

Venice, Italy

The crowd was blocking me. Squeezed in a human sea of tourists I couldn't just push them away, as I was tempted to do. The only thing I managed to understand was that Bella was taking a ferry boat to the isle of Murano. By the time I arrived at the gate, the ferry boat had just left, and I could only wait for the next one. The few minutes of waiting were going to feel very, very long, and the idea that I could have jumped in the lagoon and swum behind her at full speed crossed my mind. Alas, it would have been an extraordinary way to expose me and my kind.

Without inhaling her delicious scent and listening to her silent mind, I wouldn't have recognized Bella in disguise. Her face was hidden by a _colombina_. It was a mask similar to my _bauta_, but it covered only her forehead, nose and upper cheeks. Her hair was a cascade of curls around her face. She didn't wear a full costume, but her mask was of the same color as her coat – a deep blue.

She reminded me of a nighttime sky. Somehow we matched. For a single day, the Carnival allowed us to become other people. For once, I was the light and she was the darkness. I was a star, and she was the only sky where I wanted to be.

The ride to Murano took about twenty exasperating minutes. The isle had been known for centuries all over the world for its glassmakers. The artisans still employed centuries-old techniques, crafting various artistic works and a particular kind of pendant, made of multicolored glass, called _murrina_; it was like a round mosaic. In front of a laboratory where an artist displayed his _murrine_, I spotted Bella, who was appreciatively looking at some _millefiori_. They were round pendants made by many little glass flowers molded together.

_Look at her_, I heard a man thinking. My attention was caught by an image of Bella displayed in the guy's mind. I'd imagined that there would be admiration in his thoughts, but that wasn't the case. _She's distracted_, he continued to muse. His attention was centered on her purse. She and I were at a few feet apart, but the crowd was still an obstacle between us. She was rummaging through her purse – I guessed she was going to retrieve her wallet and buy a souvenir. I had to block the thief and avoid a scene. But he was too close to her.

Following his thoughts, I slipped through the crowd. The thief was smart; he and Bella were close to a small alley. He could grab her wallet and push a few feet through the crowd. Once he got to the alley he was assured a swift escape.

I reached the corner between the alley and the main street, where she was still fidgeting with the contents of her purse.

He acted as I'd suspected. Bella's gasp of surprise, her scream when she understood what the thief had just done, and her struggle to try to reach him made me growl out in rage.

He got his first bruise slamming against my body as he turned the corner. He incurred new bruises when I grabbed his wrists.

I answered the profanities in his mind, taking pleasure in telling him what a piece of shit he was. I'd never gone after petty thieves; my targets were guilty of far worse crimes. But the temptation of the release that a quick drink could have provided was strong.

A frail mask saved the boy's life. I couldn't remove it and reveal myself.

_Get a grip_, I told myself. _Get a grip and you'll be with Isabella in a few seconds_.

He tried to struggle. He was well-built and looked at me in shock when he realized that he couldn't free himself from my grasp.

"How many times have you done this?" I hissed. His memory of an old woman who had fallen and hurt herself trying to prevent him from taking her purse gave me inspiration. "You don't respect anyone, don't you? Not even the elders." He gaped at me, wondering if I had read his thoughts. "If you try to steal anything again, I'll track you down. How badly do you want to live?"

I took Bella's wallet from his trembling hand and let him go. She stumbled into the alley, struggling to find a way through the people. She was so focused on following the thief that she almost didn't notice me. I raised a hand and stopped her, holding up her wallet.

Her air was coming out in ragged breaths through her lips. She stripped away her mask and looked up at me. I noticed that she was wearing eyeshadow; its deep blue shade matched the color of her mask. It enhanced the creamy color of her skin, giving it a translucent appearance.

I returned her wallet with a small bow.

"You blocked the thief!" she exclaimed in Italian, her lips stretching in a smile. She couldn't see that I was smiling back at her behind my mask.

I nodded.

"Thank you so much," she said in relief. "I've been so stupid."

I shook my head. Even through the gloves, I could sense her warmth as she took the wallet. Her mask slipped from her hand as she bowed her head to put the wallet back in her purse. I caught it before it could hit the ground.

She gave a small laugh. "I'm a disaster," she joked. Her cheeks turned pink as she looked at the mask in her hands. "Shall I put it back on?" she asked, her eyes playful.

I nodded enthusiastically. As the mask went back in place, I took a moment to enjoy the full view of Bella in disguise.

"May I offer you something to drink, as a little thank you?" she offered.

I pointed to my mask. For once, I didn't have to talk about any special diet to avoid eating or drinking human food.

"Oh, right, the mask..." she observed, defeated. "Couldn't you remove it?"

From under the cloak, I took out a notepad and a pen. I would pretend I was an Italian tourist visiting Venice.

"_I can't remove the mask, but I would be honored to join you, miss,_" I quickly scribbled, handing her the note with another bow.

Her genuine laugh made my hidden smile widen. "It's a clever way to communicate," she observed. "Does the mask make speaking difficult?"

"_It's part of the mystery. Just for today._"

In my existence, I'd noticed that handwriting was a clear sign of a particular age. I'd changed my handwriting many times; otherwise, my style would have appeared odd for a high school or college student. With Isabella, I used the handwriting I felt was more mine – the most old-fashioned one. Just for a day, I could show her this one trait of mine. Would she think that I was an elderly man? Maybe I was a retired policeman, since I'd stopped the thief?

"Shall we go?" she offered. It was no wonder she was eager to leave the alley. As we got back to the main street, she glanced at the glass shop where she'd been looking at the jewels. I pointed to them.

"I was looking at the _murrine_," she explained, understanding my unspoken question.

"_Seen anything interesting?_" I wrote.

She indicated a small pendant with golden flowers on a deep blue background.

"_It's very fine. The flowers look like little pieces of topaz._"

"Topaz has become my favorite gemstone. I'm wondering about taking it or not...I don't want to remember the thief every time I look at the pendant."

"_Take it. I hope you still have time to create new, happy memories of Venice._"

She looked at me, with a new smile. "My train leaves this afternoon. Will it be enough time?"

I nodded, ready to use every minute to make the trip good for her.

She made up her mind. "Would you wait for me? It shouldn't take long."

After a few minutes, she came out of the glass shop, holding her new purchase. I reached out my hands, offering to help her with the necklace. Feeling her body so close to mine was an unexpected gift, when I'd been afraid I wouldn't see her for the entire weekend.

No mask or barrier between us was enough to hide what I felt when I was with her: they were the only moments when love seemed like something I could actually experience not only through books, movies and people's minds, but in my unbeating heart.

"I'm going back to the city center. Are you staying in Murano?" she asked.

I took my notepad. "_I'm also going to the center._"

"So, can we take the same ferry?" she wondered. "We can stop by the center and have something to drink. Or better, I'll have something to drink, since you can't. You know, you remind me of a friend of mine," she muttered.

I tilted my head, signaling my confusion.

"Nevermind."

As we meandered back to the ferry boat, it was as if I couldn't sense the crowd around us anymore. Being focused on Bella's silent mind was like entering a sanctuary. The chattering world was left out and became no more than a distant buzz.

"I would have been in trouble without your help," she told me. "You've been so brave and kind."

I shrugged.

"May I know the name of my savior?" she asked quietly.

"_Not as long as I wear a mask, miss._"

She gave me a sheepish smile. "I didn't want to be importune," she apologized.

I waved away her concern.

Once on the ferry boat, she took out her phone.

_I just hope that she's not calling..._I didn't manage to finish my thought. Well-hidden in my pocket, I sensed that my phone was vibrating. I stared at Bella's face as she listened to the phone ring; at first she pursed her lips, then she began to bite her nails.

She didn't say anything when she ended the call without getting an answer. Five minutes later, she tried again. _I'm here_, I wanted to scream_. _

"I'm calling a friend at home, but he's not picking up," she explained when the second call went without an answer. Her tone was clipped, and she kept glancing at the phone screen as if she were expecting a call at any moment.

_Damn, Bella, what are you thinking? _At least I could try to discover it. "_Is there any problem?_" I wrote.

She shrugged. "This friend told me he was going to stay home for the weekend. But he's not answering the phone, and I'm afraid something bad happened to him. He wasn't feeling well last time we spoke."

Damn. Was there anything I could do to fix it? "_Don't let it ruin your trip, miss. I'm sure he will call as soon as he can_," I scribbled. "_What have you seen in Venice so far?_"

"I'm spending just a couple of days here. Yesterday I went to the Rialto bridge and did some shopping, but I got lost I don't know how many times. What about you? Are you a tourist as well?"

"_Yes. I'm spending the weekend here._"

"I know that the city is full of tourists during the Carnival, but I wasn't expecting so many of them," she continued. "Yesterday afternoon, even walking from one street to another seemed almost impossible. So I ended up visiting Goldoni's house. At least it wasn't so crowded."

How many people would have put a visit to a writer's house among their main goals in such a short trip to Venice? "_Goldoni?_" I asked.

"Is it a strange choice?" she wondered. "He was from Venice and he's one of my favorite playwrights. Oddly enough, my favorite among his works is set in Tuscany, where I live."

Eager to know more, I motioned for her to go on.

"It's _La locandiera_," she continued. "It's the story of a strong, independent woman who runs her own inn. Many men want her, and she demonstrates she can make even the most misogynous one fall for her. But at the end she doesn't get swayed by her admirers."

Was this _Locandiera _Bella's story? Did she realize she was capable of making even a soulless creature fall for her? I let her know my thoughts through my written words.

"_Does she resemble you?_"

She laughed. "Oh, no!"

By the time we went back to the station, the sun was high. I caught her staring at me. Without thinking, I brought my hand to my face, fearing that there was something wrong. As if she'd read my mind, she smiled at me reassuringly. "I was just looking at your mask. Under the sun you sparkle like a star."

The sun was making her hair glow, full of copper highlights. Her skin had a pearly luminescence, and she'd enhanced her mouth with a veil of lipstick. With her full, velvety lips, had she just complimented _me_? With or without a mask, she could only see my disguise. Had she known the truth about me –God forbid– she would have discovered that nothing in me could be considered worthy of praise, especially compared to her. On the contrary, _she_ was truly beautiful, inside and out. The more I knew about her, the more I was fascinated by her personality and caring attitude.

I couldn't resist reaching out a hand and lightly caressing her hair. She didn't flinch as I let my fingers quickly brush through her strands, but she averted her eyes and blushed, taking a little step back.

I took a deep breath, withdrawing my hand. _What an extraordinary faux pas. _

Shamefully I realized I'd tried to dazzle her, with some success up to that point. She had let me –an unknown masked man– escort her. We'd been in the middle of crowds, and she was safe, but…what a fool I was. _I had made my masked self a suitor. _Was I going to compete with my other self, the one who theoretically had to stay at home?_ What if it worked, and she preferred the masked man to me?_

She didn't tell me off, as I probably deserved, but I noticed that she put more distance between us, making it clear that there were boundaries that weren't going to be crossed. Was it just the behavior of a prudent girl, properly raised, or dare I hope that it was also due to that other self, the Edward who was at home, to whom she was not indifferent?

The walk from the station to _Piazza San Marco_ wasn't long, but the crowd made it very slow. I didn't mind, since I enjoyed every single step, basking in Bella's proximity. I didn't move any closer to her, and she seemed to appreciate it: I saw that she relaxed and smiled again. As we got closer to the _Piazza_, we headed toward a bridge made of white limestone, with an elaborate pattern. Its narrow windows had stone bars, too.

"Do you know its story?" she asked, pointing to it.

I didn't lie when I shook my head. I didn't care about what I had read in the tourist guide about that monument. I was sure that she had more interesting things to tell me about it.

"It's called _Ponte dei Sospiri_," she explained.

_Bridge of Sighs_, I silently translated. "_A romantic name, indeed,_" I wrote. It was a trick: I wanted to know how much she actually knew about it.

She gave me an impish smile. "See? I also thought that at first, but its story is different." She pointed to the buildings connected by the bridge. "That is the Doge's Palace, and those were the prisons. The bridge was used to bring them to the interrogation room and then to their cells. Lord Byron imagined that prisoners would see their final view of Venice through the narrow windows, sighing because of their lost freedom. Hence the bridge's name."

"_Do you wish that the would-be thief of this morning were brought here?_" I joked.

She gave me a hearty laugh and shook her head. A gondola passed on the canal under the bridge then, and she stared at its occupants.

"_Penny for your thoughts?_" I wrote.

She shrugged. "It's just a stupid thing." She paused. "Can you keep a secret?"

I put a hand on my still heart, nodding my consent.

"According to a legend, lovers will be granted everlasting love if they kiss on a gondola at sunset under this bridge."

My hand hesitated on the notepad before writing. "_I hope someday you'll find the right person who deserves to go with you there, miss_," I told her. _You deserve this and so much more, Bella, _I added in my thoughts.

She looked again at the canal. "I don't know why I'm telling you these things. Maybe it's the mask...have you ever felt that sometimes opening up with a perfect stranger is much easier than with an old friend?"

I nodded. I couldn't speak out of my personal experience, but I'd seen it in people's thoughts.

"When I was a teenager I used to wonder about my ideal man," she went on. "One day, my best friend and I were talking about it, and we came up with a question: what if our ideal men existed and, when we met them, they didn't want us?"

I tilted my head. How could anyone have not wanted Bella, if she considered him her ideal man?

She gave a small chuckle. "I'm afraid I'm boring you to death," she apologized.

I rushed to dismiss her concern, encouraging her to go on.

She sighed. "I'd invited a friend on this trip, but he canceled at the last minute. He's the one who's not answering his phone today. I'm afraid it's not meant to be."

Under my mask, I cringed. I looked around, trying to regain my composure. The sun, a city of art, the gorgeous woman in front of me, the people around. _This is life_. I shut out every thought, every sound of the beating hearts, focusing only on hers. She'd accepted me into the most precious heart I'd ever met. Her heart had changed its rhythm many times because of me. I'd made her concerned, happy, surprised, and upset. But I couldn't give her anything other than a still, dead heart.

_Life_, I thought again. All my strength, everything I knew, all the things I had weren't enough to overcome the line between life and death. I was condemned to stay away from her.

I swallowed hard. _"What if he's not here because he can't be, not because he doesn't want to?_" I dared to write. Even behind her mask, I could see her sad expression. I wouldn't have been ashamed to kneel in front of her and plead for her forgiveness.

"I hope you're right," she murmured, her voice unsure.

I took some deep breaths, fidgeting with the pen on my notepad. I wanted to make it right: as long as I was with her, I was going to give her good memories. Could I make my wish come true? I would have given up everything else if, one day, many years from now, she could smile when thinking about what we'd shared. "_Give him the chance to show you how he cares for you,_" I finally wrote.

Bella lifted her mask and quickly wiped a tear. "Sorry," she apologized.

Once again, I cursed my condition. I had to stay hidden and couldn't give her even the small comfort of a hug.

"It's just that...I'm afraid to lose him. As if I could ever lose someone who's never been mine." She chuckled bitterly. "He's so elusive. He always says that I don't have to worry about him. His skin is pale-white, ice-cold. He never eats or drinks. The last time I heard from him, he said he wasn't feeling well. What if he's ill?"

I flinched. What had I done? How could she possibly believe I was ill? My head was spinning, trying to figure out what I could tell her.

"_Talk to him, miss. Like you're talking with me. He can't know your thoughts if you don't let him in_."

She removed her mask and shook her head, freeing her hair from the mask's strap. Her tears had smudged the make-up; she cleaned the last traces of it and smiled at me. "Thank you for listening. I owe you a lot," she told me quietly.

"_What about something to drink?_" I offered.

Her smiled widened. "Yes, please."

"_May I suggest where and what? Do you trust me?_"

"Let's see: you saved me from a thief, listened to me and gave me good advice. Wouldn't I trust my guardian angel?"

I motioned for her to follow me. We walked along the canal, basking in the sunlight and in the light breeze coming from the sea. Could any of the humans around me sense that a vampire was walking among them?

I led her toward Calle Vallaresso and motioned to a bar. "_Here we are._"

She smiled her surprise. "Harry's Bar? I've heard about it, but I didn't know where it was exactly."

I opened the door and escorted her inside. I gave her a note: "_I recommend a Bellini._" Obviously I'd never tasted it, but according to the tourist guide, the white peach and Prosecco wine cocktail –named after a Venetian painter– was one of the best beverages in the world.

When she followed my advice and I saw her sipping the cocktail, I didn't envy the humans who could enjoy the pleasure of a fine drink. I envied those lucky white peaches that could pass her lips. My costume suddenly became suffocating when her tongue darted out, and she licked her lips.

"I feel like a VIP," she joked, smirking at me. "So many writers and artists have been in this bar. I've read that Ernest Hemingway spent a lot of time here and mentioned it in his book _Across the River and Into the Trees_."

"_First Goldoni, now Hemingway. Would you like to be a famous writer?_" I teased her.

"Let's see. I might write a story set in Harry's bar. _The Mystery of the Golden Mask_. Sounds good?"

I laughed, handing her a new note. "_Sounds interesting. Tell me more about it._"

She tapped her chin with her fingers. "I probably need more hints. But we have a brave knight, a damsel in distress, an evil thief, and a fascinating city in its bloom. It can work." Bella's phone chirped, signaling an incoming message. She almost jumped in her seat and eagerly retrieved the phone from her purse. But when she read the text, her smile faded, a look of disappointment on her face.

Had she hoped that I was the one calling? I felt bad again, seeing her so defeated.

"A colleague seems eager to remind me that we've a meeting tomorrow afternoon," she mumbled. "As if I could forget about such a boring thing." She looked at the time displayed on her phone. "My train leaves in an hour." Her eyes met mine, and she gave me a sweet smile. "I left my luggage at the station and I have to retrieve it. I'm afraid it's time to say goodbye."

If I hadn't been sure that I was going to see her again, and without the need to be in disguise, I wouldn't ever have found the resolve to let her go.

"_It has been a pleasure, miss,_" I told her. "_May I leave you a last note?_"

"Of course."

I quickly scribbled my message, folded the sheet, and wrote on it: "_Open it when you're alone on the train. Goodbye, miss._"

She quirked an eyebrow, reading the warning I'd put on my note. Then she put the small piece of paper in her shirt pocket, close to her heart.

I considered offering to escort her to the station. The idea that she would travel alone, while I was going to drive at full speed to get back to our town in time for her return, was appalling. But I'd already been too pushy, let alone that I had to act as a perfect stranger, so I resigned to take my leave.

"Once again, thank you," she told me kindly.

If my heart were still beating, it would have skipped a beat when she leaned toward me and gave me a light hug. As she disappeared through the crowd, I followed her scent as a dog would have followed the trace of his lost owner.

I went back to the hotel, still hidden under my costume. With a sigh of relief, I got rid of it as soon as I entered my room in Mestre. Bella's train was due to arrive in the late evening; then she had to take a bus or a taxi to go back home. I mentally did the math, calculating how long I had to get home as soon as the sun went down.

Welcoming the twilight, I replayed in my mind the words I'd written for her in my last note:

_Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,_

_Having some business, do entreat her eyes_

_To twinkle in their spheres till they return._

_William Shakespeare_

I glanced at a handful of leaflets that had been left in my room by the hotel staff. They featured some upcoming musical events, advertising hotels of the same chain in the cities where the events would be hosted. There had been a time when I enjoyed a good concert or a theater play. But that time was over. I was putting down the leaflets, when I had to stop in my tracks.

The name of my target was in front of me.

The _Carnevale_ was over. The chance to be something else had lasted no more than a single day. I had to return to what I truly was: a freak, damned to hide from the light. A silly wooden puppet who had tried to be a real man. A relentless killer, ready to strike his final prey.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

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><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Many thanks (and a kiss under the Venetian bridge) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne Tate**, and **Jmolly**.

About the Bridge of Sighs; it's all legends: in reality, summary executions were over by the time the bridge was built, and the cells were occupied mostly by petty criminals. In addition, little could be seen from inside the Bridge, due to the stone bars covering the windows.

_La Locandiera (The Innkeeper) _by Carlo Goldoni is a great comedy. Don't miss it!

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com /2011/05/ writing-dialogue. html** you can read an article about _Hills Like White Elephants_ by Ernest Hemingway.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	13. Clouds

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

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><p><strong>Chapter 13 – Clouds<strong>

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><p>Sunday, February 25, 2007<p>

While the journey from Venice to Bologna had been smooth, the one from Bologna to Florence was taking me longer than I'd calculated. So many people were returning home after spending a weekend on vacation that the highway was congested, and the traffic was definitely too slow.

The notes of Puccini's _Turandot_ played on my car's stereo, keeping me company and easing my annoyance. I lightly tapped the steering wheel, humming the aria _Nessun dorma_. It seemed that Puccini had written it with Bella and me in mind: like Calaf –the hero of the opera – I was a person unknown, even to myself. And like he was a mystery for the princess Turandot, Bella didn't know the truth about my identity.

"_Nessun dorma_..._None shall sleep_," I sang in a low voice. I basked in the memories of the operas I'd enjoyed in the best theaters of the world. Those had been moments of serenity, though not of joy. I could use the word "joy" only when referring to Bella. "_None shall _sleep," I repeated, "_even you, O Princess, in your cold bedroom, watch the stars that tremble with love and with hope._" Like Princess Turandot, I'd spent many nights looking at the stars. But not even in the brightest ones had I ever found love or true hope.

"_But my secret is hidden within me_," I continued to hum. In the opera, the secret was just the true name of the mysterious Prince Calaf. It made me chuckle. I had darker secrets to keep hidden. As if I were watching it right then, I recalled the scene of Calaf vowing to reveal his name to the princess by dawn.

_On your mouth I will say it when the light shines!_ the powerful voice of the tenor sang. The memory faded, overshadowed by images of Bella's mouth, more enchanting than the finest rose. I wondered if the texture of her lips would feel like a warm, velvety caress on my mouth.

Stuck in the highway's unmoving lines, I closed my eyes and focused only on her features. Like the colorful patterns of a kaleidoscope, the myriad expressions I'd seen on her face showed up in my mind. She had elicited passion in me with her beauty, but even when she was tired or sad, she made me feel a tenderness I'd never experienced.

I felt as if my chest was constricting with the desire to reveal everything about myself to Bella. In my daydreams, she might just care for me so much that she'd accept me. I'd spend my forever kissing her in gratitude for her love.

At the thought of the walk Bella and I'd enjoyed in the morning, it was as if the warmth of the unexpected sunny day could still graze my skin, like a permanent glow. I wanted to be immersed with her in the daylight, telling her that even the sun faded compared to the light she was able to shine on me. In my fantasy, I could have joined Calaf singing "_Vincerò_." I could visualize the aria's musical notes, the sustained B4 of the last verse, the very final A4 sustained even longer. They were challenging because they were high notes in tenor range; even the most talented singers struggled to reach Puccini's score exactly. How many times had they experienced failure before achieving success?

I recalled the first time I'd listened to _Nessun dorma_ performed by Luciano Pavarotti, almost seventeen years earlier.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Saturday, July 7, 1990

London, UK

A light rain was tapping on the windows of my hotel room, in sharp contrast to the hot summer night the TV was broadcasting from Rome.

I'd switched on the TV for the first time in weeks, glad to find something other than soccer matches and boring talk shows about the FIFA World Cup. A concert of lyrical music? I could give it a try. Also, the sight of the ancient Baths of Caracalla, where the concert was held, represented a pleasant novelty after weeks when the default background of every TV show had been a soccer field.

I'd never been to Italy. Carlisle had spent time there in his early years, well before he settled in America. We'd discussed his past sometimes, and his memories about the Volturi had prevented me from going there. The idea that, because of my talent, I could have appealed the most powerful coven of our kind hadn't been attractive. In the decades I'd spent with Carlisle, I'd shared his ideals and I was proud that I hadn't ever killed a human to feed. I was never going to join a coven of killers – that had been my opinion.

Since I didn't have Carlisle's good manners, I was sure that it wouldn't have been long before I'd have challenged the Volturi's choices. I would have irritated them. Carlisle had been really clear: you didn't provoke the Volturi unless you had a death wish.

The memory made me grimace. Nowadays, my ruby irises would have been a better introduction. What had I become, a vigilante or a leech?

Would death be a punishment or a relief for me, at that point? The thought that an endless series of days was waiting for me was torturing me. Almost every day, at twilight, I wished that I wouldn't see the sun rise again. I envied those who could sleep, escaping consciousness for a short while. If dying meant that I would find some peace, would I consider going to Italy and paying the Volturi a visit?

Back then, other reasons had kept me from a visit to a country connected to the Masens' history. On the evening of July 31, 1944, Anthony Masen had taken off from an airbase in Italy and never returned. His body was never found. I imagined how much Edward and Elisabeth –my parents, _our_ parents, his parents– had suffered because of the loss of their beloved son. He'd studied law like his father, and he had a brilliant future waiting for him. A military career was just one of the fields where he could excel. I'd read the minds of parents who had lost a child, and it seemed that there wasn't any worse sorrow. Edward and Elisabeth's pain wasn't difficult to imagine. Had my parents ever shed a tear for me?

I listened to the concert, glad that I could understand almost every word of the Italian songs. With too much time on my hands, I'd begun to study the language. I wanted to better understand the words of the opera librettos. I still had a strong accent when I tried to speak it, but I no longer needed an English translation when I read an Italian work.

Little did I know at the time, that I would find my target in Italy. I would stalk him and finally kill him.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

After the concert I saw no point in staying in the hotel, so I walked out into the night. I had no need to hunt, for I'd fed before I took the plane across the pond, and I wouldn't need to go again before I left England. So at least this time the Brits were safe from my teeth.

Suddenly I realized that the anonymous neighborhood I was walking in was probably the one where Carlisle had lived with his father, back in the seventeenth century. I wondered if the parish where Carlisle's father had served as a pastor was still in place, and if my adoptive father would have recognized it. The neighborhood had been rebuilt many times over after the Great Fire and the Blitz.

I meditated on Carlisle and his father, recalling the memories my sire had shared with me during our first years together. He'd retained most of them – as I had, unfortunately. The pastor had been frustrated and maybe even a little crazy after the return of the monarchy when Cromwell died. He'd thrown himself into witch hunting, since he could no longer persecute the abhorred papists.

Carlisle had hated it, feeling that the poor women were not particularly guilty, even those so deluded as to believe they were witches. He'd been relieved when his father's interest had turned to vampires. Since surely they didn't exist, they wouldn't find any – how ironic.

The pastor had coerced his son to do his bidding in every way possible and denied him all innocent pleasures. Carlisle had told me that he hadn't been allowed to go to theaters, for instance, and he'd been forced to do things he loathed. His father had been beyond controlling, always making choices for him. Hadn't Carlisle learned anything from his experiences? Apparently not, because when his turn had come, he had done the same to me.

_Father knows best_. For a moment fury choked me. Had I met a passerby in that moment, I would have terminated him, regardless of whether he was a criminal or an honest man. But there was nobody around, so eventually I calmed down and went back to my hotel.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Less than a forty-minute drive separated me from my house. According to the travel details she'd given me when we were still supposed to go to Venice together, Bella was arriving in about an hour. I had enough time to settle down, pretend that I'd spent the weekend at home and find a good excuse to justify why I hadn't answered her calls. As if on cue, the phone began to ring. I grinned when I saw the caller ID.

"Hi, I..." Bella stammered. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Not at all," I reassured her. I didn't like that her voice was unsure. I wanted to get back the gorgeous Bella who had joked with me in Venice, about a story featuring a golden mask as the main character.

"Are you better?" she asked softly.

"Definitely. How was your trip?"

"Surprising, indeed." The silvery tone of her voice was like a ray of sunlight, one that I didn't have to avoid. I could almost hear her smiling on the phone. "Speaking of which," she continued, "may I pass by and tell you more about it?"

I pushed on the accelerator. Maybe I could do it even in less than forty minutes. "Come whenever you want, I'm at home." I was lying about the place where my body was, not the place to where my heart had already run.

She giggled. "So just open the door."

I replayed her words in my mind. Were vampires supposed to suffer hearing loss? "Can you repeat that, please?"

She laughed. "I'm in front of your door. Maybe it's easier if we don't talk on the phone."

My voice came out harsher than I intended. "Wasn't your train due to arrive in more than thirty minutes?"

"I took another train," she explained. The joy in her tone was gone. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother you." Her voice had just changed from a warm spring morning to a winter day in a rainy city.

The irritation refused to leave my words. "You aren't bothering me, Bella. Why would you think that? It's just that..." _You ruined my plans. _"Did something make you change your mind?"

"I wanted to get back home as soon as possible, that's all."

I pushed a bit more on the accelerator. A handful of minutes were ruining everything; I could only find another excuse and push her away once again.

Before I could speak, a truck's horn blast interrupted me, and the driver yelled a string of profanities out the window as I sped past him. There was no way Bella could have missed all the commotion.

"You aren't at home," she stated coldly.

"No," I croaked.

She paused. Her breathing told me that she was still on the line. It was as if every second was ticking in my head.

"Goodbye, Edward," she snapped, disconnecting the call.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I arrived home little more than thirty minutes later, surely incurring fines from the speed cameras. I rushed to Bella's door, only to stand there, at loss for words. Was I going to further ruin her day? I searched for Jake's thoughts. Nothing. Her heartbeat was the only sound that I could catch. Her phone rang.

"Hi, Jake." I heard her saying in a flat voice. "I'm fine, just tired. Are you coming home for dinner?"

The last thing I needed right then was to risk meeting Jake while I was staring at his front door like a lost puppy. I stepped away, still listening to their plans to order a pizza. A mental note about Bella's preferences – dry-cured ham and _gorgonzola_ cheese – took its place in my memory. Not that I was ever going to get the chance to share a pizza with her. I shrugged at the thought that I would remember even such an inane detail as long as I was going to exist. But that wasn't for long anymore...

The streets were cold and lonely at night. Just like me. I tried to get lost among the thoughts of other wanderers. I still had many memories about the years in the orphanages, and many moments of my short life on the streets hadn't been erased through my change. I let myself remember. What had I desired at the time? A home, some friends, perhaps a family. They seemed like heaven to me. After decades, I was at the same point. Or worse: I didn't have even the hope that things could change.

_Maybe if I had joined the Volturi from the beginning_...

I imagined my final trip to Volterra. What could I offer them in order to elicit an act of pity? Were they going to be quick, as I hoped? I knew the value of a single second when you were on the thin line between life and death. My prey had taught me. They had offered me money, power, and sex in exchange for _my _pity, pleading with me to spare their lives. I was going to beg for death, instead. But before that moment...the monster licked his lips, thinking about his target. _Like cheese on macaroni_. Italians used that expression to say that something was right on cue. My target's adrenaline – his pleas, his fear – were going to be the perfect final touch to my last meal.

I would become the monster Carlisle had created by changing me. I would unleash my nature on a human who hadn't any fault except being the one who would allow me to hurt my sire to the utmost. Carlisle could be a forgiving father for the vampires he considered his sons and daughters. But this time, not even he would forgive me.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Monday, February 26, 2007

My long walk led me to Bella's school, just when early-riser teachers and students were arriving. Against my better judgment, I decided to wait for her. The minutes became an hour. Under the windows of a crowded classroom, I listened to a biology lesson. I was afraid that I was more attentive than the students following the phases of mitosis in their textbook. When the first period was over, the kids became bored to death by two hours of philosophy. I began to wonder if Bella was going to show up at all.

"Edward..." It was no more than a whisper.

I spun as I heard my name, meeting Bella's gaze. I looked at the dark velvet of her eyes, like a wanderer who had found a shelter in the middle of a blizzard. I gaped at her, frightened that I could say something wrong and make her run away.

"Don't go," I pleaded, losing any filter between my mind and mouth.

She frowned and narrowed her eyes at me. I braced myself for her rejection. Maybe I was going to get sued for stalking.

"I'm going to be late if I don't go in."

I glanced at the school, angry at those lucky kids who were taking her away from me. "Let me explain," I blurted. "I'll wait for you, or we can meet at home or wherever you want. Please."

"I don't need any explanation." The bitterness of her tone slapped me in the face. She averted her eyes from me. "I mean, you don't owe me any." Her voice softened.

I took her hand as she began to walk away. Even through her glove I could feel that she didn't stiffen. On the contrary, her fingers relaxed in my palm. Her eyes bored into me, but there wasn't anger in them.

"Please," I pleaded again.

She sighed. "You lied."

"Let me..."

"I know, I know, you want to explain," she interrupted me, withdrawing her hand. "You know what? Take some time and think if you're going to lie to me again." She hesitated before going on. "Seriously, Edward, do you think if there's something you don't want to talk about that I'd have a problem with it? It's not as if I don't have my own...issues."

Her eyes grew sad. I didn't need to read her mind to know what those issueswere. "Just don't tell me lies. If you can grant me this, we can spend time together whenever you want. After all, you don't have problems finding me, right?" She gave a small chuckle, which I welcomed more than a piano concert by an excellent player.

I walked with her toward the school. I wondered if I could offer her a lift at the end of the day. "When do you finish working today?"

"I've got a school meeting in the early afternoon," she answered. _A colleague seems eager to remind me that we have a meeting tomorrow afternoon_. I replayed in my mind the scene of Bella saying those words to a man in disguise in Harry's bar in Venice. Had it only been yesterday? "I'm having lunch with a colleague, and she'll take me home," she continued. At least the colleague was a _she_. Was she also the author of the reminder?

I decided to push my luck. "Is our deal still valid? Tomorrow is Tuesday – may I pick you up in the morning?"

"It's been a while without my personal chauffeur, right?" she joked. Her smile would have made my heart jump in my chest, were it not still and cold. Too bad that it rapidly faded. In a serious tone, she continued, "Just think about what I told you. If you don't show up tomorrow morning, I'll understand."

I nodded. The bell signaled that it was time for her to go. As she hurried toward the school, I went back to my walk. _Just don't tell me lies_. Her words kept resonating in my mind. I couldn't fail her again.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Pisa, Italy

Lying in a meadow in the Tuscan countryside, I stared at the clouds. I could recall that I liked doing so when I was a child...

"_I've seen a dog in the sky!" I shrieked. _

"_Edward!" The teacher reprimanded me. "Do you know what happens to liars?" I didn't have to wonder about the answer to her question. "You'll be punished," she announced, just like I was expecting. _

"_It's not a lie!" I tried to explain. "The cloud has the shape of a dog. Look at it!"_

I couldn't remember if the teacher had looked, nor could I remember the punishment I'd received. Being punished had been a habit for me, after all. That short memory from my human past dissolved like thin morning fog. I imagined seeing a woman in the clouds, and then a plane. I closed my eyes again, drifting back to a summer day in 1944.

Anthony Masen had looked at this same sky. What was going on in his mind? Had he focused only on the war, or had he thought about his parents, who were waiting for him in America? He could recall our mother's features. He knew how it felt seeing Elisabeth Masen smiling at him, calling him "son." I didn't.

I didn't have any pictures of myself as a human. As I looked at the old photo of Anthony Masen that I'd been able to find, I supposed that I hadn't been very different. In the black and white image, his eyes appeared to be light. As a human, I had green eyes; were Anthony's like mine? I passed a hand through my unruly hair. Anthony's was different, short and perfectly combed. But I bet that it had my same color. _Copper. Reddish. A strange shade of brown. Rust. _I had heard many original ways to define my odd hair color. It had been the favorite excuse used by the kids at the orphanage to tease me, so much so that I'd hated that feature of mine. Little did I know that it was going to be one of the hints that led Carlisle to the Masens.

My thoughts returned to the present. A breeze made the clouds assume new and different shapes. Lives weren't so different from clouds. Like a light breeze, a little detail could be enough to change a life and the other ones connected to it. How many "what ifs" had taken me to this moment? Just a missing piece, just a different choice, and I wouldn't have been in Italy, mourning a brother I'd never met, and for whom I'd never existed. How many steps had been necessary?

According to Carlisle's notes, an old but still chatty nurse in one of the orphanages where I'd been had recalled that more than once she'd seen an elegant woman lurking around the building. She would have gone unnoticed, but her hair color and physical appearance had made the nurse think about me. As Carlisle had written, thanks to my moody behavior, many nurses at the different orphanages where I'd lived still remembered me, even after many years.

Other hints had led him to the generous donors who gave to different orphanages every year. The name Masen continued to show up. When Carlisle had found out about Elisabeth Masen's physical appearance, he was another step closer to the truth.

I read one of Carlisle's notes again. He didn't need to write down any information; there wasn't any chance that he was going to forget it. So I'd wondered about his choice to leave me those notes, written in his unmistakable, elegant handwriting. Had he sensed that maybe we weren't going to be together when he would deliver the results of his research? Or had he tried to share his thoughts with me? Sometimes his notes gave me insight about what he'd felt when he could place another missing piece in the whole puzzle.

I'd devoted years to continuing my research about the Masens. I'd been in the places where they had lived and I'd gathered many of their belongings, but then I had to admit that the puzzle was going to remain unsolved.

In my mind, I bid my farewell to Anthony's ghost. I was going to a concert that evening. I flipped through the cultural supplement of a newspaper. The concert's conductor had been interviewed, and I read the article.

I could have bought another newspaper, or no newspaper at all. I could have skipped that interview. _Just little details_. That time, those coincidences made me meet my target.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

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><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Many thanks (and clouds, LOL) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne Tate**, and **Jmolly**.

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).

_Turandot_ by Giacomo Puccini is set to a libretto in Italian by Giuseppe Adami and Renato Simoni.

On July 31, 1944, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, author of _The Little Prince_, left for a mission. He never came back.

If you are looking for excellent poems about the stars and the moon, don't miss Giacomo Leopardi's works. I've quoted some of them in my one-shot _The Moon over Volterra_, featuring Carlisle. It's posted on my profile. If you like Carlisle, I recommend _Who Are You?_ by Camilla10. The lovely Camilla helped me a lot also with the Carlisle part in this chapter.

"There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, "sketch" is not quite a word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture." – Milan Kundera, _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_. A book to read.


	14. Aria

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

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><p><strong>Chapter 14 – Aria<strong>

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><p>Tuesday, February 27, 2007<p>

Bella's scent in my car had become fainter, since I hadn't driven her to school for a while. I savored the trace I could still detect, anticipating the moment when she would be close to me again. Just the chance to spend time with her was inebriating. _No__ sun __is__ marring __the__ sky_, I noticed, welcoming the cloudy weather as a comfortable blanket. Indeed I was talking like a creature of the shadows.

When I picked her up to take her to school, she greeted me with a warm smile. "You played last night," she noted as she got in the car.

"Did I keep you awake?" I asked, though my question was unnecessary. I'd checked on her while she was sleeping, and she hadn't awoken or screamed because of her nightmares.

Her smile grew wider. "Not at all, I liked it. It was Chopin, right?"

That it was. I'd played the _Nocturne_ number 1 in B flat minor, from the Opera 9 by Chopin. I was surprised that she'd recognized it, though. "You know a lot about classical music, don't you?"

She waved a hand. "No, not at all. You remember when I told you about my piano lessons?"

"Of course."

"My grandfather used to listen to classical music at his home. I can recognize a few famous compositions."

"It's a beginning. You should go to some concerts when you have the chance," I suggested.

"I already get some good concerts from my neighbor," she joked, "but you're right. By the way, I've seen a leaflet about the _Maggio__ Fiorentino_. I was wondering about going to one of the performances."

I almost broke the steering wheel as I clenched my fists. "No!" I yelled.

She jumped in her seat and looked at me with wide eyes. "What...what's the problem?" she stammered.

The thought of her at that festival, when I would...I couldn't even bear to imagine it. I took a deep breath to suppress the growl in my chest.

"It's not a good idea," I managed to say.

She stared at me, still confused. "Pardon me?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," I told her as softly as I could.

"As you wish. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," she told me dryly.

The reason for my stay in Italy had clashed with the private bubble I was enjoying with her. As I could have imagined, this hadn't been a happy encounter for us. But by the time we arrived at her school, I was calmer. She seemed less upset but remained quiet. I waited for her to go inside.

A woman in the school hall was thinking about Bella. I waited outside the school and listened to her. "Isabella, have you spoken with Tyler?" she asked. I wondered if she was the colleague with whom Bella had had lunch.

"Tyler as in Professor Crowley, English teacher?" Bella asked, with a note of irony in her words.

The woman laughed at her remark. "Do you know any other Tyler? He was looking for you in the teachers' lounge."

In her mind, I saw Bella frowning. "Has he told you why?"

"No. Aren't you two on a project together? I was going to talk to you about doing an interdisciplinary project with me, but he got to you first." I could hear this teacher musing that Tyler seemed interested in Bella as more than just a co-worker.

Bella sighed. "Please, Angela, don't tell me. He even sent me a text to remind me about the meeting we had yesterday."

Nothing prevented the growl in my chest from erupting. I replayed the scene in Venice when she'd received the message on her phone. Who was the man who had sent it to her?

The woman recalled the afternoon all the teachers had spent at school to organize a bunch of interdisciplinary projects. Her thoughts told me that it had been an idea by the principal to promote his school and increase the enrollments. "What are you two working on?"

I focused on Bella's answer. "Turns out that our students are going to do research about family history in America and in Italy, through Internet websites, and write a report in both Italian and English for our disciplines."

"Seems interesting."

"It is indeed. But..."

"What?" Angela urged.

Bella shrugged. "Nothing. Let's see if I can find Tyler."

I felt torn, debating about leaving or continuing to eavesdrop, until a man's mind showed me Bella in the teachers' lounge. Tyler Crowley, I presumed.

"We are going to Paris together, you know?" he cheerfully announced.

"We what?" she gasped.

In my car, I gasped too. The prick's thoughts confirmed that he wasn't attracted only to Bella's teaching skills. I would have smashed him, had his mind not revealed his stupid joke.

"Relax, dear," he continued. He even dared to think that she was impressed by him. "The principal told me that a second guide is needed for the seniors' annual school trip. I thought that you might be interested, so I told him that I would check your availability." He laughed. "Or were you thinking that it was a trip just for us?"

Another growl erupted. I had to leave as soon as possible if I didn't want to attract the attention of the people who were walking by. The bastard's mind showed me that Bella was glaring at him. _That's__ my __girl_.

"Thank you for thinking of me, Tyler," she told him politely. I actually smiled: I couldn't read her mind, but I knew her facial expressions well, and the one she was reserving for her colleague was among the coldest I'd ever seen on her. "But at the beginning of the school year, I asked to not be involved in multiple-day trips."

"I see," he muttered in a flat voice. "Another time, maybe? We could grab a coffee together and talk about our school project," he offered, hopeful again.

She gave him a small smile. "We'll see." Her tone was still clipped. Was Casanova going to catch the hint? I continued to follow his thoughts. I was relieved when he thought about another colleague whom he could convince to go on the school trip. But I also saw that in his opinion Bella wasn't worth too much effort.

I had to leave before descending on him.

Some distance and time to think made me ashamed of my behavior. Tyler wasn't anything more than a harmless braggart who believed that women would fall easily at his feet. Regardless, even _he_ could be a better option for Bella than me.

She wasn't a damsel in distress, and I wasn't a brave knight. I didn't want to know anything about her past if she didn't want to share it with me, and I hadn't any right to meddle in her present or in her future.

_Future..._The words of a novel by Italo Calvino reminded me of human hopes and the fears regarding their future. _What__ new__ pennants __wilt __thou__ unfurl__ for__ me__ from__ towers__ of__ cities__ not__ yet__ founded?__ What__ unforeseeable__ golden __ages__ thou__ art__ preparing?_ There was no golden age awaiting me. In a matter of weeks, not even my eyes would be golden anymore.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Arriving home in the evening, I was welcomed by the sublime voice of Maria Callas. _Andrea__ Chénier._ I recognized the opera as soon as the soprano began to sing the aria _La__ mamma __morta._ It intrigued me, because it sure wasn't the kind of music my neighbors usually listened to. As I pinpointed that it was coming from Bella's home, I felt lured to her door, like the rats lured by the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

She was flushed as she opened the door. Her puffy eyes worried me.

"What happened?" I asked. "Were you crying?"

She quickly rubbed at her eyes. "It's just a movie," she said sheepishly. "I've seen it I don't know how many times, but it always makes me emotional."

"I didn't want to pry," I apologized. "I was attracted by Maria Callas, but..." No sounds were coming from Bella's living room. Had I knocked on the wrong door?

She frowned. "Was the volume too high? I didn't realize it."

_Congrats,__ Edward,__ on__ another __faux __pas._I wondered if someone without enhanced hearing would have heard it, and I tried to change the subject. "Is the Callas involved in the movie?"

"Yes. Come in, I'll explain."

I couldn't have asked for any better invitation. Greedily, I took a full breath of her scent, following her into the living room. Jake's scent was fainter than the other times I'd been there. Was it too much to hope that he'd moved away?

"I was watching _Philadelphia_. Have you seen it?" she asked.

I recalled an evening in a theater almost fourteen years ago. "I started to watch it, but I didn't finish it." I could skip the details about the reason I had had to leave – hunting duties. But I did remember that it wasn't a movie about lyrical music.

"At a certain point, the main characters listen to an aria sung by Maria Callas. It's my favorite scene."

"Would you show it to me?"

She smiled at me. "You can't miss it."

She had stopped the movie, but switched it on again and went back to the scene which had struck her. The aria played by Maria Callas caught the characters' attention and our own.

I stared at Bella's lips as she mouthed the Italian words of the song, following the movie. "Say them aloud," I told her softly.

She looked at me puzzled.

"The Italian words. Say them aloud," I encouraged her.

She ducked her head in embarrassment. I was going to tell her that it didn't matter, when her voice began to follow the song. "Fu in quel dolore che a me venne l'amore."

_It__ was __in__ that __sadness__ that__ love__ came__ to__ me_,I translated in my mind.

"Vivi ancora! Io son la vita!" she continued.

_Continue __to__ live. __I__ am __life._Indeed Bella was life. She deserved a love that would come to her and wipe away any sadness from her eyes.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the music. "Sorridi e spera! Io son l'amore!"

_Smile __and__ hope! __I __am __love! _In the time I'd spent with her, I'd smiled more than in the last three decades. Looking at her, declaring to be _love_, set me on fire. It wasn't the excruciating pain of my change, nor the scorching burn that I experienced in my throat when I was too thirsty. In front of me, she represented the good fire that could keep a home warm, or guide a lost wanderer to a safe haven.

We watched the movie until its end, and as I expected, her tears ran freely. I slid closer to her on the couch.

"Will there ever be a time when we can enjoy a movie without me having a breakdown?" she tried to joke.

I didn't want her to be embarrassed because of me. "Don't hold back. It can be cathartic," I murmured. "But I do hope to see you watching a movie and laughing from its beginning to its end, sooner or later."

With a few deep breaths, she regained her composure. Since the movie was over, I had no reason to stay at her home. But since she didn't leave the couch, neither did I.

"Can you stay for a short while?" Bella asked.

A smile ghosted on my lips. "Sure." If I'd stayed there for the next millennium, it would have still been _a __short __while_.

"When we saw the other movie together, it made me remember Mike. That's the reason why I was so upset," she began. The atmosphere in the room rapidly changed.

"The day before his..." – Bella swallowed before going on, as if the word couldn't leave her lips – "_death,_ Mike asked me to talk with him after the lessons. It was my first year as a teacher, and I was so full of good intentions. I'd told the students that if they needed to ask me something about the homework, or if there was anything bothering them and they wanted to discuss it with me, I was glad to help."

"You are a good person indeed," I told her in earnest. I'd experienced it firsthand.

She grimaced. "No, Edward, not at all." She sharply shook her head. "Since I was their youngest teacher, I thought that I could relate better to them, and actually, many students asked me for advice. I believed I was doing something great and that it would be a school year full of successes. But then..."

I rubbed a hand over her back. "What happened, then?"

"Mike seemed the world's happiest boy. His family owns a store in the town, and I even worked there when I was in high school. He was one of the most popular students in the school, he had a girlfriend, his grades were fine. When he asked me to talk, I thought he couldn't have any big problem. I had some errands to do in the afternoon and was kind of impatient, so I dismissed him as quickly as I could." A first sob made Bella tremble, followed by a stream of tears. "In the evening, I thought that the following day I'd ask him if there was anything wrong. I recalled that he'd seemed unusually sad, but I hadn't given any importance to it at first."

Bella's sobs became louder, and I put my arms around her. "The following morning I got the news that Mike had...killed himself," she sobbed against my chest. "If I hadn't been so stupid, if I'd given him just a moment of attention listening to him, he would be alive now. People told me that it wasn't my fault, that no one could have ever suspected what was going on, that I couldn't read his mind. But they weren't there. _I_ was there. And I failed."

Like the fragments of a broken mirror, everything fell into place. Her nightmares, her screams, the scene of the movie that had made her freak out when the main character had saved his coworker before she could kill herself. What comfort could I give her? I searched frantically through a century of memories.

One of them seemed to fit.

Talking about it was going to be so painful that I blamed my mind for giving me that option. _If __it __can __help __her, __it's __the __right __thing__ to __do,_I told to myself. I cupped her face with my hands, wiping at her tears.

"Look at me," I told her softly. "There's something I want to tell you."

Bella met my gaze only for a moment. Then she leaned her head against the right side of my chest, just below my shoulder. I circled her waist with my arm.

"My adoptive father, Carlisle, is a doctor." I began. I cringed at the word _father_. Just uttering my maker's name hurt, even after the years that had passed. "Some years ago, he was mentoring a new doctor. He was very talented and made my father proud. Sadly, one day the new doctor made a big mistake."

I recalled the day Carlisle had told me the story. I was studying medicine at the time and had decided that I wasn't going to practice, since I couldn't take the risk of slipping with one of my patients. My sire was sure that my strong control wouldn't betray me, but I didn't trust myself then, nor when I got my second degree in medicine. My adoptive father had accepted my decision in the end, but looking at his attitude toward the doctor he was supervising, I could see how he would have liked to mentor me, too.

"A man was admitted into the hospital with a kidney failure, choking and fainting. He already had spinal muscular atrophy. It's a genetic incurable disease, but these new symptoms were the ones that were killing him. He had days, maybe hours left. Other doctors hadn't been able to fix him, and the patient was on his deathbed by the time he was assigned to Carlisle's department. The new doctor diagnosed him with Strongyloidiasis and brought him his pills. The patient was very fond of his mobility assistance dog and asked to have it beside him just for a moment. The doctor allowed it. He put the patient's pills on the bed tray and walked away. That was his mistake."

I took a deep breath. Being able to recall everything about Carlisle's account was a curse for me. I could remember every trait of his facial expression as he told me the story, his thoughts about the doctor he was supervising and the patient they had lost, every detail of the room where we were talking, even the weather of that day. So many years had passed that by now, that doctor was retired or dead. Bella looked at me again. Her soft gaze gave me the encouragement to go on and bear the pain that those memories brought back.

"That same day, both the patient and the dog died. The dog had swallowed the pills, and the patient hadn't been treated."

Bella's eyes widened. "How did the doctor react?"

"He confessed to Carlisle that he continued to replay the scene in his mind. He'd been called because of another emergency, but before leaving he should have made sure that the patient took his pills. He was certain that he was going to be fired and was waiting for it, as a chance to atone. But my father didn't fire the doctor. He chastised him about not supervising the patient but told him that he had two options. That mistake could make him leave his job and waste his talent, or it could prevent him from letting anything like that ever happen again."

"What did the young doctor do?" Bella asked in a small voice.

"He had to live with the guilt for his mistake but then went on and saved many other lives. Didn't he deserve a second chance?" I wondered. She didn't answer nor did I add anything. _Is__ there __a__ line __beyond__ which __redemption __is__ impossible? _It wasn't a question, for me. Hadn't I drawn it every time I'd taken a human life?

_Don't __give __up_, I wanted to tell her. But I stayed silent, holding her until she spoke again. "Thank you for sharing this story with me."

I gave her a light squeeze. Talking about Carlisle hadn't been easy. But if it could help Bella to see herself more clearly, it was worth it. I rested my hand on her head, enclosing her in my arms, and brushed her hair with my fingers. "Is this okay?" I asked.

She nodded against my shoulder.

I stopped as she moved her hand and set her arms across my waist, clutching me. More than with the temptation of the sweet, rich nectar her blood represented, she enveloped me with the fragrance of her body. A lily in its full bloom wouldn't have smelled as good. The woman in my arms was much more precious than a bright flower, but no less frail. If only I could have used all my strength to keep her safe, I wouldn't have cursed my existence anymore.

Her breathing matched my own. I looked down at her, watching her being lulled to sleep by the motion of my chest. I would have endured every moment of sorrow I had, ready to suffer it once again, if it could grant her the full bloom she deserved. The memory of her sadness while she told me about the death of her student, and the guilt she was carrying, made me cringe. There were going to be other moments of sorrow for her, but I wasn't going to hold her then, nor be with her.

Her heartbeat slowed. I smiled as I sensed what had happened.

"Sleep well, my beloved," I whispered, too low to be heard. "Dream the dreams I can't have."

I'd never felt any parental instinct. But when Bella trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms, I thought of new moms. I'd read the minds of so many women from different times and countries during my long journey on this Earth. Their reaction when they held a crying child – their own crying baby – was always the same. After the first seconds of being overwhelmed, their instincts told them how to make their little bundle feel protected and loved.

I wondered why in the hell my mind had picked that memory. The tension in my muscles reminded me – as if it was necessary – that my feelings toward Bella, and the reactions that her body against mine elicited, weren't parental at all. Then I understood. The bond between her and me was becoming as irrevocable as if she were flesh of my flesh.

_I __loved __you__ as__ a __father __loves __his __children_. I had read that comparison in a Latin poem and had considered it odd, at the time. Only now, embracing Bella while I was so careful to avoid too much pressure on her velvety skin, the meaning of those words became clear. I would have happily kept her like that forever, in our private bubble. But like a father who let his children make their choices and their own mistakes, I had to let her go on with her life.

I closed my eyes and rested my cheek on her head, pretending to join her in her dreams. _A __little __more_, I pleaded. I recalled the years, the days, the seconds I'd spent– a nightmare one hundred years long– knowing that I couldn't rest, nor sleep, nor dream. Could I trade it all for one single dream? How long could I stay in her life before being swallowed by the darkness?

Suddenly, the sound of Jake's disgruntled inner monologue tore me out of my musings. "_How __the __hell __is __it __possible? __There __isn't __any __parking __spot __on__ the __street?_" his concerns about the place where he could leave his car made me growl.

I wished that a wolf had eaten him, preventing him from coming home while I was with Bella. I followed his thinking as he decided to check one last time to see if there was any parking available in the neighborhood. I had five, maybe ten, minutes at most.

Bella snuggled into me as I lifted her, and she didn't wake up when I took her to her room. I put her in bed and gave a last glance to her sleeping form. With my knuckles I grazed the softness of her cheek. She didn't stir as my lips, trembling with tenderness, brushed the corner of her mouth.

I needed my vampire speed to get to her door and out of her house. If I hadn't moved so fast, I wouldn't have ever resolved to leave her place, even if Jake was arriving.

His relieved sigh confirmed that he'd finally managed to park his car and was walking home. I had enough time to get away without being noticed. My lonely steps became slower and heavier as I went back to my cold house.

Jake's voice boomed as he opened the door. "Bella? I'm home!"

"At least don't wake her up," I spat, even if he couldn't hear me.

I plopped down on my couch and got ready to face what was coming. As long as I'd been with Bella, she'd been the shield that kept my nightmares at bay. But when I was away from her, the anger toward Carlisle resumed its burning inside me. Recalling our conversations about his cases–and telling Bella the one about the doctor he'd mentored–worsened it. I'd been sure that my maker and I could trust each other. I'd considered him an older brother – a father, a friend.

Letting down my defenses with him had proven to be my biggest mistake.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Many thanks (and an aria sung by Maria Callas) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Corinne Tate**, and **Jmolly**. Thanks also to **Songster** who sent me a precious suggestion.

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).

Maggio Musicale Fiorentino (aka Maggio Fiorentino) is an annual opera and concert festival founded in 1933. It takes place in Florence between late April and June.

Italo Calvino's words are quoted from _The__ Nonexistent__ Knight_ (1959). Agilulf is a medieval knight full of chivalry, piety, and faithfulness. But he exists only as an empty suit of armor. Through his story, the author explores questions of identity, integration with society, and virtue. Enjoy!

In the fairy tale _The__ Piper __of__ Hamelin_, the piper is a rat-catcher hired by a town to lure rats away with his magic pipe. The story was told by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, the Brothers Grimm, Robert Browning, and other authors.

Andrea Chénier is an opera by the composer Umberto Giordano, set to an Italian libretto by Luigi Illica. In the aria _La__ mamma __morta_, the main character, Maddalena, is orphaned and loses everything she has, nearly giving up on life. She recalls hearing "the voice of love," which promises companionship and a forgetting of the horrors she went through. In the movie _Philadelphia _(1993) the main character is profoundly moved by this aria, which is his favorite one.

The story of Carlisle's colleague is from the TV series _House_ (Season 4, episode 3, _97__seconds_).

The literary suggestion for this chapter is represented by these verses from Catullus' poem 72 (_At__ that__ time__ I__ loved __you __not __as __the __common__ crowd __of __men__ likes __a __lover,/ but __as __a__ father __loves __his __children __and __his __family_). Only these two verses from that poem had inspired and are in some way related to Edward's thoughts about Bella and his relationship with her. However, I recommend the entire book by Catullus. If you are interested in ancient Roman poetry, particularly in Latin, you may want to check out my multichapter story "De Immortalitate." It's complete.

In Italy, students can choose where they're going to attend high school. So principals – both in public and in private schools – care about enrollments.


	15. Garden

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Ladies and Gentlemen, let's welcome **Katmom** who, with this chapter, officially joins the Beta/Prereader team.

Disclaimer: _Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15 – Garden<strong>

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><p>Wednesday, August 23, 2006<p>

Pisa, Italy

The news that an American conductor had been picked to become the director of one of the most important European festivals had occupied the covers of the magazines of the classical music sector. I had already noticed the name of Robert Sawyer, and I had heard that he had recovered from a serious illness. In my hotel room, I plopped down on a couch and began to read his interview.

_You are one of the world's most renowned conductors. How did your career begin?_

_My interest in lyrical music began when I was very young. My parents chastised me because I used to lock myself in the bathroom, singing the most famous arias for hours. Even my neighbors were exasperated by my impromptu concerts._

I smiled reading his answer, recalling how I had been fascinated by music when I was at the orphanage. Life twists could be entertaining, I had to admit. Who could have guessed that such a brilliant career was awaiting that boy? My smile faded; who would have guessed what was going to happen to _me_? Robert Sawyer was truly a good conductor; too bad that I wasn't attending his next concert, since my flight would leave from Italy in a few days.

The places where Anthony Masen had spent his last days came back to mind. How many times had he wondered about his return to the United States? What had he felt, knowing every day he was risking his life in a foreign country? What had his last thoughts been about? I pushed away those musings and went back to the Italian magazine in my hands.

_What would your neighbors think now? The tickets for the concerts you'll conduct as director of the next Maggio Fiorentino are already sold out – it's a record for classical music. Would you tell us more about your new project?_

_Actually, being in Florence will be incredible and not only because of the Maggio Fiorentino engagement. As many of you know, less than two years ago I was diagnosed with a rare disease. The doctors who visited me were sure that I hadn't any possibility to survive. Then an extraordinary doctor at Rochester General Hospital saved my life. It's only thanks to him if I can get on with my career. More than this, the life he gave me back is even richer now, because of the choices I'm making. Following my recovery, I sought both to repay the debt I owed to medical science and to improve the lives of other sufferers and their families. Seeing how hard the medical staff worked to find a diagnosis and a cure for my disease, I realized how much our choices can change our lives, giving them a new meaning. Now my efforts aren't concentrated only in music._

The mention of Rochester set off warning bells in my mind. _An__ extraordinary__ doctor_. I crumpled the magazine. "It's impossible," I mumbled, "he must be another doctor." I read Robert Sawyer's words again. _Rochester__ General__ Hospital_...the Cullens hadn't been living there since Rosalie was changed. It had been just the four of us, then – Carlisle, Esme, me, and Rosalie, the family's newest addition. _A__ brilliant__ doctor__ who __found__ a__ cure__ while__ other__ doctors__ had__ failed_..._How __hard__ the__ medical__ staff __worked_. I could bet that he was thinking of a certain doctor who never seemed to take a break, not even to sleep or eat.

I recalled how Carlisle looked when I had seen him for the first time, on my deathbed. After my change, he had confided me how he hated to pretend – there was so much work to be done, and he had no need of rest. For as long as he could, he avoided going home to hide in the dark, pretending to sleep while so many were dying. _How__ much __our__ choices__ can__ change __our __lives._Why didn't he wonder about how much your doctor's choices could influence your life to the point that you could be stuck between life and death? I had to know. I had to know if Carlisle was the doctor who had given Sawyer his life back.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Friday, March 2, 2007

I was dropping off some clothing to be dry-cleaned when a much more pleasant scent reached my nose. I inhaled it deeply, savoring its luscious taste before my throat began to burn. Eyes still closed, I swallowed back the venom. What was Bella doing in the city center?

Her trail led me to a narrow street, and a high wall ran alongside it. I stared in confusion; the traces coming from beyond the wall were stronger. I walked along the street until I arrived at a door. According to the brass plate, I had reached the entrance of the botanical garden. I knew the city well, but I had never been there.

The doorkeeper, a slim woman in her forties with short blond hair, was focused on a crossword magazine and didn't notice me as I entered the small foyer. I cleared my throat, signaling my presence. The way her thoughts shifted as she looked at me almost made me chuckle. _"__Look __at__ him!__ Hey,__ gorgeous!__" _she welcomed me through her thoughts. "_The __second__ visitor __in __a__ few __minutes_. _But __this __one __is __new._"

An image of Bella – apparently she was the first visitor of the afternoon – showed up in the doorkeeper's mind. I was right: she was in the garden. I immediately purchased a ticket, wishing that the woman would stop staring at me as if I were the rarest of plants dwelling in the garden.

"_He__ must__ be__ a __tourist,_" she mused. "_I__ wouldn't __have __forgotten __him__ if__ he'__d__ been __here __before._" I smiled my thanks as she insisted giving me a complete guide – available in English and in many other languages, as she bothered to inform me – about the botanic garden and its treasures. Finally escaping her, I hastened along the gravel paths.

It didn't take me long to spot Bella, sitting on a bench under a tree, reading a book. I looked at the graceful way her hands held it; those same hands had kept me close to her, at her home. The feeling of her fingers clutching my shirt had never left me. _You__ wouldn't __need__ even__ the __flick __of __a __finger __to __keep __me __tied __to __you, __Bella_, I thought. The mass of her hair on her shoulders and the lapel of her coat were partially hiding her face from me. But I could see as she furrowed her brow, following the printed words.

I was motionless; I didn't even breathe, lest I interfered with the silence of the park. Regardless, Bella became aware of my presence when I was still a good distance away. I looked upon her radiant face, fixed on her gaze and her smile.

"Edward!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she noticed me. "What a surprise! What are you doing here?"

"I wasn't far from here and decided to come in and take a look." It was the truth, although I was omitting the reasons that had led me there. "I've never been here before." I pointed to the book she was holding. "Isn't it too cold to stay outside reading?" Albeit cloudy, the weather was mild, but most humans wouldn't have chosen to sit in the open air in the winter.

"You're right," she admitted. "But I've just bought this book and I couldn't resist flipping through it. I couldn't think of a better place to read, despite the weather." She motioned to the park around us. "Do you want me to show you around?"

"Do you know this place well?"

"Edward," she warned, with a mirthful look. "I'll try to worry...less about you, but will you ever stop answering my questions with another question?"

"Please," I encouraged her, grinning. "Be my guide."

We left the bench where Bella was reading and we started our tour. My enhanced sense of smell allowed me to pinpoint what every plant was, and many of them made me remember my travels, which had given me the chance to see them in their natural habitats. I searched for other minds and smiled when I understood that, beside Bella and me, there weren't other visitors walking among the trees.

"How did you discover this park?" I asked.

"Jake told me about it. Oddly, many tourists aren't aware of it. I fell in love with it the first time I came here," she recalled.

"Why?"

"I come here to walk when I need some time alone. See?" She pointed out a plastic plaque. "On every plant, there's a small sign that says its provenance and age. It's like traveling through different countries and times."

I gave a glance to a giant palm – it seemed that I wasn't the oldest one in the park. A velvety caress glided over my hand; I looked down at Bella's fingers as they grazed mine. Slowly, I drew my palm to hers. She ducked her head and squeezed my hand. In my time, I would have offered her my arm, but holding hands felt just fine as we silently walked along the path.

She pointed to two trees in a small clearing. "They are my favorites," she revealed. We looked at the plaques: the Magnolia and the Gingko biloba had been both planted there in 1787. "They are the most ancient plants of the entire garden," she explained. "They have seen so many things and people changing around them. How would it be, living for so long?"

I shrugged. _You__ could__ ask__ Carlisle_, I silently mused._He's __seen__ even__ more_. "They have been stuck here for centuries. I'm afraid it's not so much fun."

"I guess you are right. After three centuries, the same view can become boring." She leaned on the Magnolia trunk, patting it as if it were a friend. "But they have offered shadow and refuge to so many people, for such a long time."

"Also to you?"

She nodded. "I wasn't in very good shape when I arrived here. These trees proved to be very good listeners."

I moved closer to her and leaned my cheek on her head, just above her ear. Her heart beat faster as I approached; her blood rushed in her veins. "Are you better now?" I whispered.

"Some days it's still hard, but it doesn't hurt so much anymore." She looked beyond the wall that surrounded the garden. The sounds of the city, its tall buildings and crowded streets, seemed even more distant while we were in the peaceful oasis provided by the trees.

I noticed a tall fence and pointed to it. "What's over there?" It seemed that a smaller garden was enclosed within the park.

"I've the same question. The tourist guide says that there's a section where flowers are divided according to their season. It creates a different setting month by month, but I've never seen it."

We walked toward the fence. "Is it closed?"

She huffed. "Yes, due to renovation works. I've never seen what's beyond here." Bella looked at me and then at the fence. "You're tall. Maybe you can get a peek?" she suggested with an amused smile.

Could I? Why not? But not alone. Without thinking too much about it, I took her by her hips and lifted her.

"What..." she gasped. "Edward, are you crazy?" She giggled as she felt her feet leave the ground. "Put me down, I'm heavy!"

It was my turn to laugh. "No heavier than a backpack."

"There are cyclamens," she shrieked, her enthusiasm infectious.

"Have you noticed the camellias, too?"

"Which are they?"

"The ones over there, just behind the white cyclamens."

The thoughts of the doorkeeper, albeit still distant, told me that she was going to check the garden in a short while. The time for visits was almost over. Reluctantly, I put Bella down.

Her sudden movement startled me. While she was still in my arms, she turned herself, facing my chest, and remained with the fence against her back and my arms around her. Without a word, she looked up at me.

I kept my hands on her hips, as if I were holding the most delicate rose of the garden. My mind focused on her thoughts. _Silence._ It was like entering the only sanctuary where I was welcome. I looked at my image, mirrored in her eyes. _Peace_. Her gaze was my refuge, the place where I had never felt judged. She raised a hand and put it on my shoulder, close to the crook of my neck. _Bliss_. Even through her light touch, I could sense her energy and the intensity of her emotions.

The shy smile that lighted up her face was my undoing. I couldn't have ever gone back after that. I swallowed hard, but it wasn't because of the venom. I couldn't compare the fear and the anticipation surging through me to anything I had felt in front of a prey.

If I knew those feelings well, and I did, it was because fragments of them had reached me through the decades, sent by the minds of people I had seen kissing, loving, desiring each other. Every time, I had been fast to shut them out, eager to go back to my dark corner, ashamed because I was violating the secret garden of their hearts.

_You__ don't__ have __to__ go __away_, Bella's gesture said to me. _Come __toward__ the __light. _Like a beacon, her eyes were guiding me toward her.

My instinct told me to resist as my lips brushed hers. But the hand she had put on me prevented me from recoiling. _Stay_, I told myself. _You__ don't__ need__ to__ leave_. I wasn't entering someone else's paradise. Unbelievably, I could enjoy the encounter of our hearts without being considered an intruder. _Isabella_. My mouth trembled as I whispered her name against her skin. The steel of my lips molded around the silk of hers. "Be still," I murmured, afraid that even the smallest movement could crush the dream. I inhaled her scent as if it were the only air that could grant my survival. So it was: if there was a chance that something human could still exist inside me, it was only thanks to the girl in my arms.

Bella didn't stay still. She cradled my face in her hands and combed my hair with her fingers. She peppered my chin and the corners of my mouth with light kisses, until I captured her lower lip in mine. I released it as she giggled.

"What's so funny?" I mumbled.

"I was afraid that you weren't ever going to do it," she joked.

I let out a playful, light growl as I drew her even closer to my chest and kissed her again.

When we opened our eyes, I didn't recognize the person mirrored in Bella's ones. The monster was gone. I was a man. I was happy. I was in love.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Finally, a kiss! It took them just...fifteen chapters LOL.

Many thanks (and a flower from the garden) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**.

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).

To accompany the chapter, I recommend Francesco Petrarca's (Petrarch) poem _Chiare,__ fresche__ et__ dolci__ acque _(_Clear,__ sweet__ fresh __water_).

The Camellias of this chapter have been chosen as a floral homage to my friend Camilla10. Camellias mean excellence and steadfastness.


	16. Rocks

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_**An Italian Winter**_

Your feedback after the kiss has been fabulous! Thank you!

Disclaimer: _Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16 – Rocks<strong>

* * *

><p>Friday, March 2, 2007<p>

"Ahem." The doorkeeper cleared her throat behind us. "The botanic garden is closing in less than fifteen minutes," she informed us.

Embarrassed as two teenagers caught in the act, Bella and I rushed to leave the park. Her hand didn't leave mine, though.

"Are we going home?" I asked while we were walking toward my car. _We_ – it sounded like a perfect chord, one that I would have liked to play for centuries.

She nodded. "I must go home indeed and do some work."

I was puzzled. "Isn't it your free day?"

"It is, but I'm working on a school project, and I'd like to bring some new materials to my colleague tomorrow."

"What is it about?" _As __if __I __don't __know_.

"Actually, I guess you might find it interesting, since your language is involved," she explained. "I'm working with an English teacher who suggested giving our students the task to look for family histories both in Italy and in the English-speaking world."

"Family history? Don't you teach literature?"

She snorted. "So it seems. Are you asking for a lesson, Mr. Masen?"

"Please, enlighten me," I joked, as we entered the car and I started driving home. It was unusual for me, but I slowed down while driving, wanting our time together to last as long as possible.

"Actually, in Medieval literature it wasn't uncommon that officers or bankers wrote some notes about their family and city, along with the reports about their business. In some cases, those works became relevant historical sources, with a literary value. My colleague and I are trying to make the project more fascinating for our students, with the help of the Internet and the task to write a report in both English and Italian. Some pupils have found websites where people keep a sort of history of their family, and I'm going to check them at home."

I looked at her as if suddenly the Italian medieval literature could give me all the answers I'd been always looking for. "A very good lesson, Professor," I teased her. "I believe you deserve a prize."

"And the prize would be?"

I pulled over in front of her house and leaned toward her. "Let me kidnap you again Sunday," I whispered to her. "See? This time I'm even asking for your permission."

She smiled broadly. "You're a very fast learner, Mr. Masen. I'm very honored to accept your award."

I moved closer to her, and my mouth glided over her smile. I closed my eyes and gathered her in my arms, basking in the peace that her silent mind never failed to provide me. I couldn't sleep, but Bella made me dream.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sunday, March 4, 2007

When I picked her up in the early morning, Bella welcomed me with a warm smile but was rubbing her hands together. "It's freezing today," she said, her warm breath coming out in puffs.

Actually, _freezing_ had a different meaning for me – in my travels, I had even visited Iceland in the wintertime – but I had to admit that the weather was unusually cold. The heavy curtain of clouds that covered the sky was useful for my plan, but I couldn't say the same about the temperature. I had already switched on the heating in the car, but we weren't going be driving for a long time.

She looked at me with amusement. "Is it okay if I ask you where we're going?"

I nodded. "Would you be interested in seeing a Medieval fortress?"

She gaped at me. "You never fail to surprise me. Are we staying in Tuscany at least? I have to work tomorrow," she playfully reminded me.

"Of course, Professor." I chuckled. "We'll stay within the region."

"Are you sure you've lived here just for just a few months?" she wondered. "You seem to know every inch of Tuscany."

I refrained from telling her that I could have written a tourist guide for a very special audience: _The __Tuscan__ Guide __to __Good __Hunting __Places __for __Vampires __Who __Feed __on __Animals_.

"Getting to today's destination will take us a little more than half an hour by car," I announced, faking the voice of a tourist guide. "Then we'll walk for about another hour. Is it too long?"

She shook her head. "I'm officially kidnapped for the day," she joked. "Your plan sounds good."

"So just relax and enjoy your trip." I glanced at her as she leaned her head on the seat, angling her body toward me. My eyes went back to focus on the street as I increased our speed and shifted the gear.

Her fingers grazed the back of my hand. "Is it okay?" she asked quietly.

Flipping over my hand, I took her fingers in my palm and lifted them to my mouth. Despite the car heating, her skin was still cool. Apparently, she had forgotten her gloves, too. I would have liked to be able to warm her hand with my kisses, but I couldn't offer her even that.

Her fine scent made me moan in pleasure. I allowed myself a peck on her skin before the need to stay focused forced me to put her hand down. I kept a loose grip on her fingers, though. "If the heat is too high, just tell me and I'll lower it," I said, hoping that small talk would help me to get a grip.

"Thanks." Her voice was husky. She kept looking at our joined hands, as if she was also daydreaming.

The car ride went smoothly, and we began our walk. Thanks to the cold weather, we were the only two visitors on the path in the woods. I had chosen a very simple path, but I offered Bella my help regardless.

"Maybe I'm not as agile as you, Mr. Perfect," she joked, "but I used to walk on paths like this at home, you know?"

"Really? Weren't you a sea dog?" I teased her. "A nice sea puppy, I mean."

"My dad used to take me on the Apuan Alps to hike. They aren't far from my hometown, and you can look at the sea from them. I'd like to take you there someday." Her voice faltered before she completed the sentence. Gone were both our smiles. Bella's hometown wasn't filled only with good memories – I knew it. Besides, she couldn't know that our time together wouldn't last long.

I pointed to a relief at the end of the path. "Look over there. That's The Wart."

She frowned. "The Wart?"

"It's what that hill is called. It's like a wart on the mountain – hence the name," I explained. "Are you ready for the hike?"

As an answer, she increased her speed. I could detect a light layer of sweat on her forehead after we had walked for a while. Subtly, I observed the way the color of her skin, her scent, and her expression changed according to her body's movements. I cherished every feature of her humanity – even the sweat drops. The perpetual change of her body fascinated me.

She kept the conversation going. "You mentioned a Medieval fortress, right?"

"Exactly. Don't expect to see much – there are just ruins – but the view from there is quite impressive."

The last part of the path was the only one that made me concerned for Bella. The vegetation was thick, and the road wasn't easy to follow along the steep rocks. I was already going to offer her my help again, but she was already reaching for my hand.

"I guess I could use some assistance," she told me sheepishly.

"Good girl." I grinned. "I'm glad you aren't too stubborn."

"I don't have any point to prove." She clasped my hand, using it for leverage to climb up the final steps toward the fortress. "Not asking for help and getting bruised would just be stupid."

"Exactly my point." Our fingers remained entwined as we arrived at the top of the hill, although she didn't need my help anymore.

"It's something I like about you," she told me quietly. My eyes met hers. The sweetness of her gaze drew me closer to her.

I put an arm around her waist. "What are you talking about?"

"I've often felt as if I had something to prove to the world. It could be getting excellent grades at school, or being good at doing the housework assigned to me...whatever. For years, doing what people were expecting from me – or at least what I thought they were – has been my torture."

I knew the feeling. I'd been proud of what I'd done in my years with the Cullens. Then I'd realized that I was only deluding myself by hoping that, for once, I could be something different than a disappointment. I nodded at Bella, eager to hear more from her.

"With you, I never feel this way," she continued. "You accept me just the way I am. I've always believed that I had to _earn_ people's affection – like my parents, my friends, my colleagues wouldn't have wanted me anymore if I'd screwed up. With you it's not the same."

Hadn't she just voiced my own feelings? _Successes __only __last __until __someone __screws __them__ up. __Failures __are __forever_, I had once heard. It could summarize my entire existence. Too many memories threatened to come out. I didn't want to meet them; what I desired most was enjoying the little time I had with Isabella.

"Did I make you understand all this just taking you up a solitary hill on a cold day?" I whispered to her, smiling against her earlobe.

She leaned her head on my chest. "It seemed that being kidnapped by you always reveals many surprises," she said in a lighter tone.

I covered her eyes with my hands. "Are you ready for one of them?"

She giggled. "What are you doing? I can't see!"

"Just trust me," I instructed. Keeping her eyes covered, I guided her a few steps toward the ruins of the Medieval fortress that crowned the top of the hill. "The fortress is awaiting you, princess."

"You aren't going to make me fall from a cliff, are you?" Even if she'd realized that I was joking, a veil of concern floated around her words.

"I'd never let you fall," I assured her. My hands uncovered her eyes; I stayed behind her, putting my arms around her shoulders.

Bella gasped as she took in the view. Her muscles tensed, and she receded, further pressing her back against my chest. I tightened my grip around her. "You're safe," I murmured to her. "Just enjoy what you see."

Was she safe, a human in the arms of a vampire? I couldn't forget the time I'd been a danger in the woods.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Friday, October 17, 1997

Mount Tremblant, Canada

I ran through the woods at my full speed, reinvigorated by the nourishment I'd just taken from a bear. Two trails of thoughts reached me, piquing my curiosity. I'd kept myself as far as possible from humans while hunting, but in my run I had come close to their hiking paths. I couldn't detect other people around, and twilight was rapidly approaching. I climbed on a spruce and spotted two young people, a man and a woman.

Why were they still walking in the woods? Their minds told me that, in the afternoon, they had gotten lost and just found the way back to the trail. Holding hands, they were hurrying toward the place where they'd left the car. The man squeezed the girl's hand; he was relieved that their hike was supposed to be over in a few minutes.

I was going to leave them to their plans, but the girl's mind attracted my attention.

My mind-reading abilities had often proven to be a curse. The first months after my change – before I learned to control my talent and to shut out what people's minds sent me – had been maddening. Just a few precious minds were so amazing in their purity that I didn't feel compelled to run away from them. The girl's mind was one of them.

The love she felt for the man radiated from her in warm waves. She had desired to spend a holiday weekend with him for a long time. Her light blue eyes shone as she looked up at him. I knew how powerful the relationship was between mated vampires. Could it be the same for these two young humans?

No one had ever looked at me the way the girl was looking at her boyfriend. People had gazed at me with lust, admiration, and envy. But none of them had the same power or the loving passion I could read in the girl's eyes.

_I'm__ yours_, she vowed in her mind, still roaming the guy's features with her gaze. I read a new resolve in her. Involuntarily, she revealed some moments of their relationship and the decision she'd made with this holiday. She was going to give him all of herself – she wanted her body to belong to him, too. Just the thought made her blush.

She averted her eyes from him, and I did the same. Reluctantly, I left the girl's mind and briefly checked the man's ready to distance myself from them.

A wave of bitterness surged through me.

"I love you," he whispered to her.

I choked back a growl.

His words weren't echoing his thoughts. They couldn't, because when he had said "I love you," he was lying. In his mind he was imagining her under a soft light, sharing many moments of passion with him. But there wasn't love in his heart. He smiled, registering the adoration in her eyes. _Poor__ thing_, he thought. _Has __she__ really__ been __in__ the__ college __for __over__ two __years__ without__ understanding__ how__ things__ work__ around __there?__ I__ pay__ attention __to__ you,__ you __give__ me__ some __fun,__ and__ then__ I__ look __for...something __fresh.__ End__ of__ story._

He focused on the feel of warm, soft skin brushing against his hand; he recalled he had strung her along for a while. _You've __been __almost__ a __record __for__ my __standards,__ darling, _he silently mused to her. _Make__ tonight __be__ worth__ the __effort._

I grimaced out of disgust.

End of the story, indeed.

Even later I remained unable to explain my behavior, to explain why I decided to test the couple's bond to the utmost.

In a matter of seconds I descended in front of them, blocking their way. I didn't allow them even the time to recoil from the fright and stepped toward them with a menacing snarl.

"Who are you?" the man asked. _Damn.__ A__ druggie,__ for __sure. __Did__ this __shit __come __here __to__ rob __me?_

"I don't want your money," I told him, replying to his thoughts.

"So what the hell do you want from us?" he snapped.

"Let's play a game," I sneered, closing the distance between us. "One of you can go away. The other will stay with me in the woods. How much do you love her? Are you ready to die for her?"

I didn't leave the man the time to imagine a fight with me. I pinned him to the ground, immersing myself in his shocked thoughts. He couldn't understand why he – a fit man – was incapable of any reaction against his attacker and couldn't kick off the body hovering over him.

I lowered my mouth to his ear. "Have you made up your mind? Or do you both want to die here and now?"

I tightened my grip around his forearms. Through his memories, he showed me glimpses of his life, but a single thought was screaming among them: _It__ can't __be __real...__I __don't __want __to __die! _I followed along as he realized that in the whole world there was just one person he could thrust between himself and his attacker.

"Do it to her!" he shouted. "Not me! Take her!"

I was right.

He was going to sacrifice his girlfriend – the woman who loved him – in order to save his own life.

I released him from the trap of my arms. "Go away," I hissed. "Run. Run as fast as you can, before I change my mind."

He scrambled away, without a second glance to everything he was leaving behind him.

_It's __over...it's__ over..._ was the only fragment of thought that resurfaced in his mind after a short while, along with images of the way back home.

My game was over as well.

Had I just used my strength and mind-reading abilities for pure cruelty? Had I any right to step between them? Was it even worse than attacking them to feed myself?

As I raised my head, I spotted the petite figure frozen in front of me. The girl's face wasn't showing fear or hate for me; she had been hurt by an even deeper wound. _He __left_, she chanted in her mind.

I could smell her fear in the shaking waves that her blood was sending to me, enhanced by the increasing rhythm of her heartbeat, but she didn't move.

I couldn't leave her alone in the woods and in the darkness, nor could I approach her: she believed I would be true to my threat and kill her, now that her boyfriend had run away.

But the core of her thoughts wasn't about me or her perceived imminent death. The main image in front of her eyes was his leap as he dashed away, his screams when he believed his life was reaching its end and he tried to bargain hers for his. His words echoed in her memory. _Do __it__ to __her!_

I moved toward her, my hands held up, palms forward.

She had to leave the woods and go back home. For sure, she was going to call the police, but they would believe she was in shock. I wasn't worried about exposure, since I hadn't revealed anything but my strength.

I searched her sapphire eyes, trying to reach her behind the tears that were blurring her sight.

"Don't be afraid," I muttered. "Please, don't. I didn't mean to..." _To__ what?_ I was at a loss for words."I won't hurt you," I vowed.

She was still unresponsive.

"Listen to me," I tried again.

_He__ abandoned__ me..._It was the only certainty resonating in her mind. She tried to catch a breath, but it seemed that air couldn't fill her lungs. I realized she was fainting. She collapsed to the ground, but the expected blow didn't arrive.

_Cold..._she thought, as my hands steadied her.

"Stay up," I encouraged her.

It didn't take her long to realize the man who was trying to help her was no other than the _monster_.

"Stay away from me!" she tried to scream, her voice trembling. She struggled to free herself and kicked me, but I stopped her before she managed to bruise herself against my body.

"You'll get hurt," I told her. "Calm down, I beg you."

I tried to make eye contact, hoping she would understand that I didn't mean to threaten her.

At length, she stopped struggling.

She looked closely at my features, thinking that – if she survived – she had to remember my face and as many details as possible to trace me – _this__ bastard_, in her words. She could spare the effort. Before she finished filing a report, I would have left the country.

But then she began to realize that too many things were odd. I had been too fast, arriving in a blur, and her boyfriend had seemed powerless against me.

"Who are you?" she whispered. "_What_ are you?"

I released her body, but we were still very close.

I bowed my head. "I wasn't going to hurt anyone..."

_You__ said __you__ were __going__ to __kill__ us,__ you __bastard_, she yelled in her mind, fighting to not voice her thoughts. She knew she had to avoid provoking my wrath again.

"I swear I won't go after you or your boyfriend," I went on. "Forget me. Go home and don't tell anyone what happened. Run away and forget about this."

But she didn't leave.

She was lost, without any clue about the direction her boyfriend had taken. _Boyfriend_? The man who had said he loved her was the one who had left her with a sick bastard in the woods.

A whisper escaped from her lips, almost inaudible. "He left."

"You need to go home," I told her softly. "Go, now."

I had to find a spot to let my rage out. Before dawn, so many deer were going to die because of me.

_Where,__ asshole?_ she rambled, not allowing herself to show her worry. _I__ don't__ know__ where __the __hell __I__ can__ go __right__ now!_

"Follow the path," I instructed. "Go over the parking lot and turn left. Half a mile from there you'll find a lodge. You'll be able to call for help."

I didn't know for sure if she had registered my words, but, still unsure on her legs, she stood up and ran.

She dashed through the woods, only to stumble and fall after a few yards.

I was going to help her, but I stopped.

My breath caught in my throat as I sensed that she had scratched her knees and palms on the ground and was bleeding. She stood up again and resumed her run.

What could I have told her? I would have wanted to soothe her, to ease the pain I had created. "I'm sorry," I said, although I knew she couldn't hear me anymore. "I'm not..." _I'm__ not__ a__ monster_, I would have liked to say. But it would have been a lie.

_Lies a__nd __truth_. They were my curse, even more than my mind-reading abilities. I had to bear the weight of knowing more truths and more lies than everyone around me. People believed that knowledge was power, and they were right. But knowledge meant choices, and choices meant responsibility.

If I hadn't broken that girl, how long would have it taken before her boyfriend would do it himself? How long before she knew the truth about his feelings?

Over the last decades, I had discovered truths that had stayed hidden for years. Whenever I had picked a new human prey, I made choices about people's lives and deaths because of those truths. I _had__ killed_ because of those truths.

But how much longer could I play God?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sunday, March 4, 2007

I nuzzled Bella's head with my nose; the scent of her hair reminded me of almonds. I left a trail of light kisses on the side of her neck, then leaned my chin on her shoulder, enjoying the view in front of us.

I had been there often after my hunts. I could detect every detail of the landscape, from every house in the small towns of the valley to a strip of sea that was visible on the horizon when the sky was clear. But looking at that panorama, holding Bella in my arms, made me feel like the world around us had been created in that moment, only for our eyes.

She shifted in my arms and turned toward me. "I feel so small in front of all this," she told me softly. "Don't you?"

I nodded. "I hear what you're saying. I felt that way when I came here before, but today it's different. What I feel most today is peace." Where had that come from? I sounded like a weird hermit. Even my body begged to differ: having Bella so close elicited something surely pleasant, but definitely not _peaceful_.

_You__ are __my __life_, I would have liked to tell her. How could it be otherwise? What, if not life itself, could resurrect the human in me? My lips brushed against hers as I swallowed back the words. I took her face in my hands, caressing her cheek with my thumb. _Easy_, I reminded myself, tracing the contours of her mouth with my tongue. She closed her eyes and tilted back her head, relaxing in my arms although we were on the crest of the hill. _She __trusts __me._Her body was saying that she had believed me when I had told her that I wouldn't ever let her fall. I savored her kisses as if they were the first mouthful of fresh water after wandering in the desert. That they were, indeed.

A mischievous grin lit up her face. "What would the guardian of the fortress have thought, seeing us this way?" she joked.

A drizzle of kisses accompanied my words. "I would have never let him see you." Sadly, my pecks didn't represent the only drizzle on the hill. Some raindrops began to fall. A quick look at the cloudy sky made me suspect that even some snow could arrive at any moment. I wiped a trail of little drops from Bella's forehead. "I'm afraid we must go now," I said.

She retrieved something from the ground. "I'm ready to go."

Puzzled, I looked at what she had in her hand. "Are you going to throw it at me?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Did you do anything to deserve it?" In her palm, she held a round, smooth stone. "I'd like to keep it as a souvenir," she explained. "It's something that won't change. The fortress was built and then it went to ruins. So many people came here and now they aren't alive anymore...but the rocks have always been the same."

_Like__ me_, I would have suggested just a few weeks ago. I remembered a talk with Carlisle. Along with the body, a vampire's essence was often compared to a rock. We weren't supposed to change. But could I say so, looking at Bella?

I recalled what I had thought about her when we had just met. _She __could __be__ a__ nice__ distraction __for __the __time__ I__ was__ spending__ in __this__ town_. I tried to reconnect with the person who had had that thought. It wasn't me anymore.

I helped Bella in the most difficult trail of the path, and we held hands while we hiked back to the car. I pulled up the hood of her jacket and put an arm around her shoulders, shielding her from the light rain. _She__ has__ shown __me __that __I__ can__ care __for_ _someone_, I realized.

I took the stone from her hand, asking for a closer look. Her palm had left a slight trace of warmth, which vanished as I touched the stone with my icy fingers.

My eyes shifted from the stone to the fine porcelain of Bella's skin. I could have easily destroyed the rocks in my grip. As it turned out, Bella was even more powerful. She could turn a stone into a man.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Many thanks (and a rock as a souvenir) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**.

As for the references to Medieval literature, Bella is referring to the work of the Florentine medieval banker Giovanni Villani. In his _Cronica_, he described not only Florence's everyday life, but also the pandemic of the Black Death (1348). His work was continued by his brother and his nephew. This chapter's literary suggestion is _Decameron_ by Giovanni Boccaccio. It's an Italian masterpiece set during the same plague; a hundred stories are told in two weeks.

Would you like a Medieval vampire story? Go read "The Pilgrimage" by Camilla. The vampire Adso will surprise you. h t t p : / / www. twilighted. net/ viewstory. php? sid= 15919

The "wart" where Edward and Bella enjoy their walk is an actual hill close to a town called Vicopisano – not far from Pisa, in Tuscany. It's called the "Verruca."

"Successes only last until someone screws them up. Failures are forever." It's a quote from the TV series _House_.

"Do it to Julia!" Winston Smith shouts to the guards who hold him prisoner in _1984_, by George Orwell. He betrays her, and relinquishes his love for her; Julia does the same.

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	17. Phone

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17 - Phone<strong>

* * *

><p>Sunday, March 4, 2007<p>

We arrived at the car, dampened by the drizzle. Bella put down the hood of her jacket as she entered the warm, sheltered space. She fluffed her hair, sending a strong wave of scent toward me. I allowed myself just a quick, inebriating breath before turning away.

"Would you like to stop in town for lunch?" I offered.

"Actually, I had a big breakfast and I'm still okay. But if you want to stop, it sounds good to me."

"Let me see." I pretended to wonder. "Someone told me that she was spending the whole day with me, right?"

She giggled. "Guilty as charged."

"So I have other plans. I'll give you a break at your place, if you need some rest. Then, I request the pleasure of your company at my home for dinner," I told her with a formal nod.

"I confirm my presence," she said with a smirk. "At what time am I meant to arrive?"

"Whenever you're ready. But I'll come get you if I don't see you after twilight," I warned her.

"Just let me shower and change clothes." Her tone was bright but then she furrowed her eyebrows. "There's something else I have to do this afternoon. It's my mom's birthday, and I owe her at least a phone call, since I'm not going home to celebrate."

_Home_. I'd lived in so many houses in my years alone, yet it was only with Bella that I felt I knew what _home_ meant. "Why aren't you going?"

She pursed her lips in a tight line, staring at her hands on her lap while her fingers drew irregular patterns on her knees. I had touched on a sore point.

"My parents and Mike's are friends," she explained. "I know them well, too, since I worked at their shop when I was in high school. But after what happened to their son, I don't have the guts to go home and face them."

I knew that talking about it wasn't easy for her, but I encouraged it all the same. I couldn't bear the thought that she was facing her nightmares alone. "Is it the reason you've gone months without seeing your family?"

She nodded. "I didn't go to Mike's funeral, since I was still in the hospital, and never visited his parents afterward. Now it would be even more awkward."

"Have you tried, at least?" My voice was unintentionally stern.

She opened her mouth but didn't speak. She only shook her head, confirming my guess. Her gaze went back to her feet. "He was their only son," she mumbled after a while. "I wasn't there when he needed me. What can I ever tell them?"

"What do you think they would tell you?" My tone was calmer. I would have never made her uncomfortable, but I couldn't stand that the guilt was eating at her.

A shrug was the only answer I got.

"You don't need to torture yourself in this way," I told her as softly as I could.

"Don't I deserve it?" she said, her voice bitter.

_If__ you__ only __knew__ what __I've __witnessed__ and__ what__ I've__ done._"Have you forgiven me, Bella?" I asked her, out of the blue.

She looked up at me, her eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"You know that I lied to you," I continued. "You found it out, and I'm glad you did. I've hurt you, even if I never wanted to."

"Why are you talking about it now?"

"If you hadn't given me the chance to talk with you and explain, I would have lost you because of my stupid mistake." I cringed at the thought: our friendship would have ended that way, and I would have never kissed her. "You offered me your trust again. You didn't believe that, since I'd lied once, I couldn't be anything else than a liar with you. Why don't you allow yourself the chance to move beyond the guilt?"

"It's not the same," she objected.

"I know." I took another deep breath. How could I talk to her about forgiveness? How did I, liar that I was, dare to talk to her about truth and lies? "You're the only one who can know how it feels. But I've seen horrible things." I sighed. She deserved the truth, as far as I could give it to her. "I've _done_ horrible things." My voice became a whisper, but she heard me.

She seemed even more confused. "What did you..."

I stopped her, raising a hand. "I can't speak about it."

She remained silent.

"I'm not one to talk about forgiveness or redemption," I admitted, "but there's something I'm sure of: you offered me your kindness, and you welcomed me whether I deserved it or not. Please, Bella, believe me when I say you deserve at least the same acceptance."

"I've imagined it so many times," she murmured. "Speaking with Mike's parents, telling them that..." A sob interrupted her words.

I stopped the car and embraced her. "I don't want you to regret – a day, a month, or twenty years from now – not speaking to them or having spent more time with your parents."

"I'm not ready," she stammered.

"You will be," I tried to reassure her. "I'm not asking you to decide anything right now. Just consider it."

"Would you come with me?" Her voice was hesitant. If there was even a small chance that she might think about going back home, I couldn't lose it.

"I want to." I kissed her forehead, keeping her close to my chest. The thought that in a few weeks I wouldn't be able to go with her anymore tore me apart. "I promise you this," I whispered to her. "If for any reason I can't come with you, remember today." I drew her even closer to me. "Remember this moment. Wherever I'll be, my heart will stay with you," I vowed.

We didn't speak for the rest of the way home. But another voice resonated in my memory as I recalled the months that had gone by since my last phone call to the Cullens.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Rochester, New York

"Edward!" Alice's voice gave me a pang of longing. I would have expected her to shriek. Instead she welcomed me with a sweet tone, uttering my name as if it were a sigh of relief. "Tell me that you're coming home! We've missed you so much!"

I didn't allow her affection to swamp me. "So, you're in Rochester, right?" I asked her coolly. _How__long?_ I wondered. It couldn't be for more than a few years, of that I was sure. No more than a blink of an eye – compared to a vampire's life – before the necessity to keep their human appearances forced them to relocate.

I recalled the first years after my change. Carlisle and I had moved from city to city, never making any friends, never having anyone else besides each other. I couldn't imagine how he had endured centuries of absolute loneliness. In him I had found a mentor and a father, but the awareness that I still was a wanderer, like I had been for my entire human life – when I had gone from an orphanage to another – didn't fade away. On the contrary, it worsened, since we would never be able to feel that we belonged in a place. We were unchanging creatures damned to perpetual movement, forced to sever our roots, much as it could be painful.

"We've been here for more than two years," she began to explain. "Jasper and I attend the high school in Spencerport, while Carlisle works at Rochester General. Esme has remodeled a house, and your room is ready for you." Her words brimmed with enthusiasm. "Since I had a vision of you with golden eyes, I was sure that you were coming back. I knew. I knew that it was only a matter of time!"

I scoffed at her expectations, not bothering to reply.

"How did you find us?" she asked.

"It happens, when you treat a famous patient," I spat.

"You mean Robert Sawyer?" Alice's brightness didn't fade, as if she hadn't noticed my bitterness. "You should have seen Carlisle when he was treating him. He was so proud when he succeeded." Her tone softened as she mentioned the vampire we considered our father. "He would have liked so much to discuss that case with you."

"Aren't you tired of playing happy family?" I scoffed. "Was Carlisle hoping to spend the next centuries discussing his cases with me, while his patients got back the life that had been denied to me?"

Memories of one night back in the Thirties returned.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"_Was it hard for you tonight?" Carlisle asked softly, walking beside me on our way out of a piano concert. "I didn't think so many people were attending, otherwise I would have..."_

"_Not at all," I immediately reassured him. "I've enjoyed the music so much that I almost forgot we were around humans." I let out a small laugh and took the first full breath I had allowed myself in the entire night. Carlisle had taught me to be always careful. "Well...almost."_

_My mentor smiled at me, the pride for my control shining in his eyes even before it appeared in his thoughts. "Are you going to replay the compositions we've listened to tonight?"_

_I grinned. "You know me well. You can count on it."_

_He playfully raised an eyebrow at me. "Do I have to order a new piano before I go to work tomorrow?"_

_I laughed at his jest. It had been years since I'd mastered my strength so I didn't smash the piano keys anymore in the passion of playing. "I would be ready to play in a concert hall." I abruptly stopped. The smiles disappeared from our faces. We both knew that it would never be a possibility – I couldn't risk attracting the attention of a talent scout or of an expert, and a musician who didn't age wouldn't have gone unnoticed. _

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Edward," Alice murmured. Her voice lost its silvery tones as she realized that her hopes weren't meant to become reality. "Does this mean that..."

"No," I confirmed. "I'm not coming back." It wasn't difficult to imagine how her face had fallen. I hadn't expected her to still miss me so much. I vacillated in my resolution because of her words. I could almost envision the home Alice had described – the one where, according to what she'd said, they were ready to welcome me back. But I pushed away that thought, determined to follow the path I'd chosen when I'd left the Cullens. I was ready to end the call but Alice wasn't.

And that would be her mistake.

"Whatever you've done, you know that Carlisle would forgive you," she tried again.

The phone cracked in my fist but didn't break. "What are you saying?" I growled. "_He_ would forgive me? What does _he_ have to forgive?"

Nothing had changed, nothing ever would. For all of them, Carlisle would always be the perfect father, the one who knew best – the guide who, in his great magnanimity, was ready to welcome back the black sheep.

He had betrayed my trust and kept the truth from me, but still, _I_ was the one who needed to be forgiven.

Alice didn't relent, desperate to find a way to bring me back. "You aren't the first of us who's had a moment of weakness. Emmett slipped, too..."

"Slips?" I yelled. "Who do you think you're talking to? I've killed, Alice, and I'll do it again. After all these years, can you admit that they were my _choices_ and not just instances of distraction?"

"Why?" She asked, anguished. "Carlisle has always refused to tell us what happened between you and him, and you certainly didn't share anything with us."

"I can't say I don't appreciate that he didn't spill my secrets to you," I admitted. "But maybe he did so only because he didn't want you to think less of him. He must remain the perfect one, right? The infallible vampire, the good doctor, the loving father. Right?" I mocked.

"Why would anyone think less of him after what he's gone through?" She took a deep breath before going on. "None of us can read Carlisle's mind, but we've been around him in the years since you left," she recalled quietly. "I can't imagine what he might have done to deserve to suffer for you the way he does every time he considers what you've become." I knew Alice well; I was aware that her words weren't meant to accuse me. They held the echo of years of sorrow. To her, the pain I'd caused was reason enough to seek forgiveness. But I didn't.

At that point, I doubted there was anything I could do to make her understand. At least I could ensure that she wouldn't hope for my return anymore. "Just one last thing," I told her harshly. "Wasn't I clear enough when I asked you to avoid looking at my future?"

I disconnected the call before she could respond.

I shook with rage, replaying Alice's words in my mind. I imagined her choking on the tears she couldn't shed. I envisioned Jasper trying to comfort his mate and hating me for making her suffer. I could bet that it wouldn't have taken long before Carlisle had stepped in, offering his words of wisdom to his hurt children.

What if... Could I do something that not even Carlisle was ever going to forgive? What would he do if the blood of my next prey fell on his hands? It would be the death of an innocent. The execution of someone he cared for.

Whatever Alice would do, I didn't have a long future for her to see. I made up my mind: the life of Robert Sawyer would be the last one I was going to take. Then, I was going to have my existence ended.

Carlisle had spent some years in Italy, centuries ago. He'd lived with the most powerful vampires in the world, the Volturi. In a matter of months, the wheel would come full circle: I was going to ask the Volturi to terminate the existence that their friend Carlisle had imposed on me. If they were reluctant to do it, I would manage to enrage them. It wouldn't be difficult.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Sunday, March 4, 2007

Lost in her thoughts, Bella was staring at the windshield wipers. The drizzle had increased to a full rain, and the temperature had dropped further. She squeezed my hand as she realized that I was looking at her. Had Alice ever seen her in one of her visions? Since the last time I'd talked to my sister, Bella had been the only one who had made me feel cared for. Too bad that the time to say goodbye to her was rapidly approaching. _Not__ yet_. I would treasure her until the last second we had together.

I pulled up to her house and accompanied her to the front door. "Be quick." I smiled. "I'll fetch you if you don't arrive at my place in three hours."

I went out for a walk, not trusting my resolve: if I'd stayed at home, the temptation to listen to Bella's phone call to her mother would have been too strong. Could I have sparked a glimmer of hope in her with our conversation today? I was eager to have her for myself for an evening together, but if she had called me to cancel our dinner, telling me that she was going home to celebrate with her family and reconnect with them, I wouldn't have borne a grudge. If there was anything stronger than my selfishness, it was my desire to see Bella finally happy.

Two hours, forty-two minutes and twenty-five seconds proved to be enough for Bella to show up on my doorstep rested, freshly showered and changed into black pants and a red sweater. A veil of lipstick matched the hue of her top. She didn't usually wear make-up; the thought that she had put it on for me made me beam.

"Come in," I invited her. I took her hand in mine and noticed how, although the walk from her home to mine was short, her skin had cooled down. Minding the unexpected cold weather, I'd kept the house heating very high for her. As she came in the foyer, the sudden change in temperature made her face flush. My lips glided over her cheek, following a trail toward her neck. Her breath came faster.

"You're too beautiful," I whispered. "I'm reconsidering releasing you in time for your workday tomorrow."

A new wave of heat on her skin made me think of putting my joke into practice.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Parents dealing with the loss of their child. It's a tough theme, indeed. _The__ Child__ in __Time_ by Ian McEwan is this chapter's suggestion. By the same author, I'd recommend also _Atonement_, where he states that "A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended."

Many thanks (and a phone call - happier than the one in this chapter, I hope LOL) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**.

Edward is taking a Spring break and is coming again in two weeks (dinner with Bella...mmmhhh...). Happy Easter.

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	18. Matches

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight_ belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

Edward is back. Dinner with Bella!

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><p><strong>Chapter 18 – Matches<strong>

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><p>Sunday, March 4, 2007<p>

A surprise was waiting for us. As we entered the living room, Bella looked outside the window and gasped.

"Snow!" she exclaimed, pointing to some loose snowflakes floating in the street in front of us. "I haven't seen it in years!"

I hadn't seen the snow either since I had arrived in Italy; from what I had gathered, it was pretty rare in the area where we lived. We stared at the street while it was being covered by a white layer, too thin to last more than a few hours. I passed a hand through Bella's hair and circled her shoulders. Compared to me, wasn't she as frail as a snowflake? Wasn't her life as ephemeral?

She caressed the back of my hand and leaned her face on it, covering it with the softness of her cheek. My cold skin didn't make her recoil; on the contrary, her lips glided over my fingertips. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, basking in her warmth. Shivers ran through me as she left a trail of light kisses on my hand.

"Come here," I whispered, turning her toward myself. My hands slid under the rich mass of her loosened hair, tilting up her face. A pendant on her necklace sparkled as she exposed her neck. I recognized the _murrina_ she had bought in Venice; it was now gracefully adorning her cleavage. "This is very nice," I complimented her, lifting the jewel.

She covered my fingers with hers. "It's a souvenir from Venice." Her voice was husky. "It reminded me of topaz." Also when we were in Venice she had said topaz was her favorite gemstone. But when her eyes met mine, a mischievous smile parted her lips. Did she like topaz because of my eye color? I pushed away the thought that soon they would resemble rubies. I focused on Bella's silent mind, which once again became my refuge.

I held her close to my chest. Her teeth had trapped her lower lip, and my mouth came to rescue it. Eyes closed, I savored the sweetness of her mouth. Her heartbeat quickened, mesmerizing me. Like the Tin Woodsman of _The__ Wizard__ of__ Oz,_ I wished I also had a beating heart. I didn't need it to know how precious Bella was to me, nor to better understand what I felt for her. But if having a heart like Bella's meant I could have a life with her, a human life...dreaming of it was far too easy. I had to rein in my imagination.

We looked outside the window again. The street we knew so well appeared new and pure under its cold blanket. Not even the sounds coming from the few remaining cars on the road disturbed our peace: every noise had been muffled by the snow. Just for a night, even a sleepless creature like me seemed to be allowed to rejoice.

"Miss Isabella," I told her quietly. "Dinner is ready."

"Dinner?" she asked in disbelief. "You can cook?"

Her tone made me laugh. I wasn't sure I would have surprised her as much if I had showed her how fast I could run or how strong I was. "Not at all," I admitted, joining in her laughter. "But I hope I've found a good deli."

"Is there something you can eat, too?"

I shrugged. "It's better if I don't. But I've ordered something I hope you'll like."

As if it had made her remember something, she took her pendant and squeezed it. I wondered if she was recalling something I had told her in Venice. Her smile was gone, though. "May I ask you something?"

I nodded.

"I've noticed that sometimes you speak as if you're going to disappear at any moment," she rambled, "and when you didn't come to Venice, you told me you weren't feeling well. I know there are things you don't want to talk about, and I'm not going to push you, but you mentioned a special diet and you know...you never told me what your research is about, either." She hesitated before going on. "Are you sick?" she blurted. "I mean...would you tell me if that were the truth?"

I shushed her flood of words. The suggestion I had given her while I was in disguise in Venice came back to me: _Talk__ to __him,__ miss_, I had told her._ He__ can't __know__ your __thoughts __if__ you __don't__ let__ him __in_. Apparently, Bella was following the advice of the masked man who had come to her rescue during her trip.

I could ease her mind at least about my health. "I'm not ill," I assured her, "and even if I can't always answer your questions, don't hesitate to ask them."

She smiled, and I mirrored her. I skimmed my fingers across the blush that showed up on her cheekbones. "As for the time we have together, I'd like to quote an ancient philosopher." Bella tilted her head at me in curiosity. "Augustine underlined that only the present belongs to us. The past has gone; the future hasn't arrived yet," I went on.

"He had to be a very wise man."

"Indeed he was." I put my hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her face, hoping she could see that I meant the words I was going to tell her. "We don't have but this moment, Isabella, and I'd like to make the most out of it."

When she laid a velvety kiss on my lips, I became sure that we were actually doing that.

I led her toward the table I had set, and I pulled out her chair. With a quick glance I made sure that the fiandra cloth and the dishes were in order. I didn't speak immediately when I saw her eyeing the table, puzzled, and I enjoyed the confusion that accompanied her unspoken question.

"Am I eating alone?" she finally asked.

"I'd like to do something else while you eat," I told her vaguely.

A wrinkle showed up between her eyebrows as she narrowed her eyes. "Are you leaving?"

I chuckled. "Not at all. I won't be far." I tried not to be embarrassed about my next question. "Bella, may I feed you?"

Her blood rushed to her cheeks so quickly that it left me no less stunned than her. She gaped at me for so long that I wondered if I had offended her, and she would slap me in the face.

"I'm not going to deny you," she murmured at last, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

I blessed the Internet for all the advice I had found there about food. The visit to the deli had been something to remember. I couldn't enjoy the excitement of the other customers, since to me human food smelled bad and tasted worse, but the wide choice offered had been overwhelming. Luckily, the memories I had kept of my eavesdropping on Bella gave me useful hints to select some dishes I hoped she would like.

I took the first one of the trays I had set on the table. I opened the cover I had left on it to keep the food warm and revealed a quiche with smoked provola and cured ham. I cut a small mouthful of it and offered it to her. It was still warm, and the cheese had melted. The heating had enhanced its smokey smell, mingled with the slightly spicy scent of the cured ham.

I had to abstain from licking my lips as I saw Bella's mouth closing around the fork prongs. "Is it too hot?" I asked, trying to resume the conversation. I needed a distraction; otherwise, the dinner wouldn't last long.

She swallowed and shook her head. "It's delicious," she mumbled.

According to her conversations with Jake and the smells that came from their home when they had their meals, she had a passion for cheese. As a second course, I had picked buffalo mozzarella. I smiled at the thought that in some ways she and I shared the same tastes. I also enjoyed buffalo – although definitely more raw.

I took one of the cherry tomatoes which were on the side of the mozzarella and dipped it in olive oil. I brushed it over her lips; her tongue darted out and picked a drop of olive oil from the corner of her mouth, leaving a wet trace. If she had looked me in the eyes right then, I was sure she would have compared them to burning coals. I leaned toward her, bringing my cheek close to hers. My fingers parted her lips, letting the cherry tomato slide between them. "Bite," I murmured in her ear.

Bella's teeth pierced the tomato's skin, and she sucked its juice. I stiffened, stopping to breathe. Waves of desire shot down my spine, concentric circles of bliss and sweet torture that she was drawing around me with each breath.

I shifted in my seat, hoping that, in the semi-darkness, she couldn't see all the signs that my body was yearning for her. But I could see how her cheeks flushed. She ducked her head, avoiding my gaze. Her body was humming to me, luring me into answering her siren's call. It took all my control to put more distance between us. Attending to the next course offered me a chance to regain my composure.

I had put slices of Asiago cheese with pear cubes on a wooden cutting board. I wasn't so sure that the pungent aroma of the cheese, which reminded me of walnut, was actually suited to the fruit, but that was what a culinary guide had recommended.

"There's a proverb in Italy," she told me when she noticed the Asiago with the fruit. "_Don't__ let __the __peasant __know__ how__ good __cheese __is __with __pears_."

That was something I had never heard of. "What does it mean?"

"It means that some secrets must stay hidden," she explained. "But there's also a story behind it. The match between pears and cheese was considered very refined and was reserved for rich people. In the aristocracy's opinion, letting the peasants try it was pointless, since they wouldn't be able to properly appreciate it. And another way to read the proverb is that as long as you don't know a pleasure, you won't miss it."

The fork that was holding a piece of cheese and a chunk of pear remained suspended in my hand, mid-air between her and me. If I had never met Bella, I would never have had the chance to enjoy every second we had spent together – and those were the most precious moments I had experienced in over a century. But, at the same time, I wouldn't have felt the pain of longing that tore me apart every time I considered that I was going to leave. _What__ if __I__ stay? _I wondered. _What__ if __I__ continue __to __stay __with __her, __like __this, __as __long __as __she __wants __it?_ Light like a wisp of smoke, the idea began to float in my mind.

I hadn't noticed that I had set the fork too high for her to reach it easily. She let out a small laugh as she finally arrived to it and took her mouthful. The silvery sound of her amusement snapped me out of my thoughts. I motioned to a bottle of wine. "Are you thirsty?"

She nodded.

I poured her a glass of red Chianti, staring at the rich liquid as it filled the glass. Venom coated my tongue at the thought of my own thirst. I offered her the drink, and I had to gulp down my venom as the wine touched her lips. Just for the blink of an eye the image of a pale Bella, running with me in the woods, flickered in my mind. I shivered at the idea, trying not to linger on the fantasy of her with eyes as red as the wine she was tasting.

I got back to the cutting board, ready to prepare a plate with flakes of Pecorino cheese, and took a tiny bowl of liquid wattle honey. I dipped a cheese flake in the honey, holding it to her mouth. She let out a small moan, enjoying the contrast between the sweet, thick honey and the salty, friable slice of mature cheese.

I had uncovered all the trays. She looked at the food still on the table. "May I ask you something?" Her tone was still playful.

"Anything."

"How did you know my preferences? You picked some of my all-time favorite foods."

"I've been lucky," I said with a shrug. I recalled our evening on the pier, at the seaside. "Before you ask, the food is not poisoned."

She laughed. "I wasn't going to ask. Not again, at least." Her eyes bored into mine. "I trust you," she told me softly.

"Against any better judgment," I mumbled bitterly, too low for her to hear me.

"What about you, Edward?" she went on, oblivious to my musings. "I already know what foods you don't care for, but what do you actually like?"

"Apart from you?" I teased.

"Apart from me," she remarked, "and I'm not a food."

I scoffed at her words. _Don't__ be __so __sure __about __it. __It's __just __a__ matter __of __point __of __view._ When I looked at her, desire made me swallow. _I__ want __you. __That's __what __I __like. __Not __just __'like.' __More __than __this, __I... _I didn't dare even to think the words I wanted to tell her out loud.

I took her hands in mine, and we moved toward the couch. I lifted her wrists toward my face and inhaled deeply. The smoothness of her skin reminded me of a summer day when, in my human years, I had tasted an apricot. I could still recall it was a hot day, the sun sending flames of heat over the city. The small fruit had provided some refreshment and had given me a moment of pleasure when I had sunk my teeth in the sweetness of its pulp, marveling at the delicious flavor.

Now Bella was wrapping me in her scent, which I could compare to roses and jasmine. With my eyes closed to better appreciate the moment, I basked in the luscious waves she sent to me. The thirst I felt was not for her blood anymore, but it wasn't any less powerful.

We sat facing each other, and I went closer to her. We still had some time – an hour at most. Then I had to let her go. Since we had met, I had fought against my vampiric instincts. Now I had to fight against a different urge, refusing to be moved by the pull my body had toward hers. If I asked her to stay, if we spent the night together...I stopped. I couldn't. I couldn't do it when she didn't even know who I truly was.

I took a loose strand of her hair in my fingers. "I'll tell you something I like," I whispered. I could see her as clearly as if we were in daylight, but the dim lights softened her features. Under the delicate arch of her eyebrows, I got lost in the deepness of her eyes. My still heart clenched, recalling when I had seen tears trapped in her eyelashes. Gone were those days, or so I hoped. The golden flecks shimmering in her irises were a precious treasure: they told me that she was happy, and nothing could matter to me more than that.

I cradled her in my arms and began to speak.

"_Trois__ allumettes __une __à __une __allumées __dans __la __nuit_," I quoted. _Three __matches __struck __one __by __one __in __the __night._

Bella looked up at me, smiling in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"It's not answering your question about the food I like," I joked. "But I'm telling you what fed my heart. It's a French poem, one of my favorites. Just listen to it."

Her eyes widened. Her lips formed a small circle, then stretched in a smile. "Go on," she encouraged me.

"_La__ premiére __pour __voir __ton __visage __tout __entier_," I recited. _The __first __to __see __your __face __in__ its __entirety_. "_La __seconde __pour __voir __tes __yeux_." My fingers caressed her forehead, skimming across her temples. _The __second __to __see __your __eyes_.

I lowered my head, my forehead touching hers, and I murmured the last words close to her mouth. "_La __dernière__ pour __voir __ta __bouche_," I went on. _The __last __to __see __your __mouth_. Her ripe cherry lips felt hot on my fingertips. I recited the last verses in translation, my breath mingling with hers as our lips joined. "_And__ the __darkness__ all __around__ to __remind __me __of __all __these/ __As __I __hold __you __in __my__ arms._"

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

"Trois allumettes une à une allumées dans la nuit/ La premiére pour voir ton visage tout entier/ La seconde pour voir tes yeux/ La dernière pour voir ta bouche/ Et l'obscuritè tout entière pour me rappeler tout cela/ En te serrant dans mes bras." Jacques Prévert, _Paris__ At__ Night_.

Many thanks (and matches - struck by Edward, of course) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**.

I'd like to thank Camilla for the delicious culinary suggestions. She sent me a complete menu and even the name of an Italian deli where Edward could have actually found all these specialties.

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	19. Money

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19 – Money<strong>

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><p>Monday, March 5, 2007<p>

By Monday afternoon the snow had already melted – the last traces of it washed away by a misty rain. I glanced at a couple of kids playing in the street, on their way home from school; they splashed each other with the gray water that filled the puddles.

"Too bad the snow is gone," one of them complained. "We could have had a snowball fight."

"Come on! Snow in March? It seemed like Christmas last night."

I shuddered as the kid mentioned that holiday. There had been no snow then; nothing pure – not even a veil of snow – belonged to the way I had spent my last Christmas. I clenched inside at the thought. Had I met Isabella before then...

I wondered if in that case yesterday night would have gone a different way.

_Sorry, love_, I silently apologized to her, thinking about the way our evening had ended. I had broken our embrace, still holding her by her shoulders.

"It's getting late," I had forced myself to say, "and you're supposed to work tomorrow."

I had stood up, averting myself from her gaze of disappointment. Did she have any idea how painful it was, trying to deny her? My body and my still heart had been pleading with me to ask her to stay. _I want to make love to you_, I had thought, accompanying her toward her house. Once again, I was longing for things I had no right to want.

Before meeting Bella, everything I had experienced about sex was base and repugnant. And yet, since I had fallen in love with her, I was sure that it could become the most precious gift that lovers could give to each other. The purest love – the one I had seen described in poetry or I had caught sometimes in my parents' and siblings' minds, before shutting myself out – truly existed. For me, it had the clear gaze of my Bella. She had resurrected the purity of feeling in me, that I had thought long since destroyed.

I had lied, I had killed, I had brought nothing but pain and sorrow to the people who had been close to me. What could I ever offer to Bella? But there had been a time, not long ago, when my virtue was all I had left. Until then. Until last Christmas.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Monday, December 25, 2006

I wished the holiday season would slip away faster. I had had enough of the revelry, decorations, and the frenzied way people rushed about, all but forgetting the cheer they were supposed to carry in their hearts. I waited until most of the people were inside, stuffing themselves with food at merry parties teeming with relatives and friends, and I finally went out for a walk.

The chill had emptied the streets. I let out a sigh of relief seeing the shops were closed, their blinking lights switched off. I hated shopping. It was something I'd never had a chance to do while I was human, and it was too much of a reminder of all I missed in my existence.

It was my last Christmas, but it wasn't something I was going to miss. Alone in a foreign country, my revenge already planned, as well as my death – I was even more disgusted by the holiday season's unspoken imperative: _be happy_. I grimaced at the New Year's resolutions I detected in the minds of some bystanders here and there. Didn't they consider themselves lucky enough if they got a new year to live? I left the humans to their delusions: little did they know how fast they could crumble in front of death – or in front of the vampire who was going to drain them.

Passing by a club, I made my own little resolution, though. The crowd of guys waiting to get in for a night of leisure were of one mind, hammering the same thoughts: money and sex. I didn't need the money.

Determined to begin a kind of hunt I had never experienced, I snorted, considering what my hopes had been in the past. After witnessing the bond between Carlisle and Esme, and the feelings shared by my mated siblings, I had dreamed of finding such a strong love. I had imagined that, as soon as I discovered the woman I was looking for, I would have done the utmost to secure her forever. I had to admit it: even after leaving the Cullens, although my hopes had faded, in the deepest part of my stony heart I hadn't given up yet. That was, until I entered the club on the night after Christmas.

Easy. Picking a woman who held her stare longer than the others, accompanied by a mental suggestion, didn't take more than a few minutes. A brunette in her mid-twenties noticed me in the crowded club, a half-grin on her glossy lips. She couldn't know that other women – humans and vampires – had given me the same look, the same innuendos though the years. Turning them down was normal to me. I was the first to be surprised when I walked toward the brunette, holding her gaze.

She was average – just a little above plain. Her name was Serena_. _I hadn't even cared to ask it, but she told me, asking mine. It didn't ring any bells, at first. Then I thought about its meaning: _serenity_. One thing I would have liked to achieve on that Christmas. Too bad that I didn't have any Santa Claus willing to listen to my wishes.

Convincing her to get away from the club, leaving the noise of the loud music behind us, was effortless. She had tried to build a façade of nonchalance, keeping up the conversation.

But her mind had told me another story: we weren't looking for our soulmates in the bar of a second-class club. We didn't need anything different than a junk dealer; what were we but ruined potsherd waiting to be picked up?

One Alaskan night, on my last visit there, a couple of years before I left Carlisle's coven, resurfaced in my mind. A family friend, Tanya, had wanted me, even though I had no interest in her as she was not my mate. I had turned down the vampire's proposition. She had, however, followed me in the woods where I'd gone to hunt alone. I had tried to block out her thoughts when she had fleetingly sifted through memories of thousands of her successful conquests.

Tanya would have been beyond jealous, seeing that a human woman was getting what I had denied to a gorgeous immortal. _Her experience with human lovers can come in handy now_, I considered when Serena left a hot trail of kisses on my neck, leading me toward her car.

Tanya preferred human men, since they were soft and warm. Soft and warm were Serena's hands, too, as she slipped out of her skirt and unzipped my pants. I read her mind, and her thoughts confirmed that she wasn't looking for anything but a quick release – a chance to be distracted.

I recalled I had seen people destroying themselves with alcohol or drugs when they were tormented by problems, even being well-aware that they were only hurting themselves more. The desperation I had felt when I had entered the club reminded me of their own.

Serena cursed, and her mind told me that she considered it arousing. It only enhanced my disgust. I wanted my ruin completed as soon as I could. I didn't lose my control even for a moment as I dipped myself in her wetness, surrounded by her moans of pleasure and her eagerness for more.

The contact between her intimate flesh and my own made me shudder, at first. I couldn't focus on anything but the compelling warmth of her folds. The shudders enveloped me, like concentric circles, to the point that I couldn't stop myself from thrusting, wanting to make the feeling last as much as possible.

"More...fuck..." Serena mumbled. Her words dissipated into heavy panting. The tension in my body grew, leading me to speed my rhythm. Serena's scream as she reached her satisfaction was the last thing I registered before my own climax.

I was no longer a virgin. It was difficult to wrap my head around it. The experience had a sour aftertaste, but I couldn't have expected anything else. I had always thought that my first time would be with someone I was in love with. I had imagined it as a way toward mutual worshipping, not to self-destruction. I felt empty and cheap.

I stared at the car window as Serena's warm breath steamed it up. How much had I given up for a moment of release? In a parking lot, in the backseat of a car, I hadn't only spilled my useless seed but what remained of my ethics, too. Shutting my eyes, I followed the scenes playing in her mind, and froze: Serena was a thief, and she was thinking about how best to rob me.

I tried to better understand her thoughts, but the more I uncovered them, the more venom filled my mouth, my throat constricted by nausea. Her motive in lying with me was not just for sex: it was just a way to lure me in. She hadn't really wanted me at all. If possible, I felt even more degraded.

Flickers of a home began to float in her memory. The furniture was old-fashioned, the curtains bordered with handmade lace. It wasn't the kind of house where I would have imagined that a young woman lived. I stiffened, sensing that she was trying to push those thoughts away. An old woman appeared in her memories, speaking with her, cups of steaming coffee in their hands. _Is she someone Serena misses? _I wondered. _A grandmother, perhaps? _Her mind provided me the answers.

"Are you okay?" she asked, puzzled by my bewilderment.

I didn't answer her question, focused on her mental images.

Serena pouring a powder in the old woman's coffee, then taking the money from the chest of drawers in the bedroom. Her worry when she had read that the woman she robbed had died. Her fear of ending up in jail. _Heart attack_, the newspaper had said. _The result of a drug the robber had put in her coffee to stun her_.

She regretted we hadn't taken a drink together, back in the bar; otherwise, she could have put a drug in it for me, too. If it had worked, by now I would have become easy prey for her greed.

_At least he's a good piece of meat, _she thought, _although__ he must have very bad circulation_… I wasn't the first she had laid her eyes on in the club. She had chosen me because I appealed to her more than others. But a new plan began to form in her mind. She could let me go, but she would pick up a wealthier-looking victim next time, slip him some narcotic, and take his valuables. With luck, she thought, she wouldn't even need to have sex with him.

_For sure_, she went on musing, _a man would need a stronger dose than an old woman. He must still be out by the time I disappear...an overdose would be better than too small an amount..._

I was aghast. How could I have fallen in her trap? Worse than that, maybe with my behavior I had even enhanced her confidence that picking new victims would be as easy as it had been with me.

I had created a monster. For once, I understood the regret that I had caused Carlisle. I would have to deal with my creation, and prevent her from preying on others. In a few months, I would rectify Carlisle's mistake, and I would have my life ended.

I had made a decision before that Christmas. I had vowed that I wasn't going to drink from humans anymore, regardless of their crimes. My days as a vigilante were over. But now the monster was awake again. I licked my lips, wetting them with my venom. Serena didn't understand what it meant. She hoped that I was up for another round of sex.

The LED clock in the car signaled that Christmas was over. Just a few hours separated us from dawn. Just a few more hours of rest, and Serena would go back to her robberies, her victims soon forgotten.

I could make sure that she wasn't going to harm anyone again just for some cash and pitiful golden trinkets.

I tried not to feel guilty as I bit through her carotid and felt the hot life force slide down my throat. Although she had given me her body, I was nothing but prey to her. Our encounter had been a meeting between two different predators.

Serena struggled, but she couldn't do anything against me. I swallowed her blood as quickly as I could, gulping deeply. The flavor was still mingled with the cocktails she had drunk at the club. In a few minutes, her body was ready to be discarded. I took care of the grim business and faked a car accident, leaving no tracks. Everything was over before sunrise.

Money and sex. Weren't they the center of everything, after all?

-x-x-x-x-x-

Monday, March 5, 2007

In the late afternoon, I heard Bella rummaging in her kitchen. From the sounds I detected, she must have been baking; even the screech of her oven's door had become familiar to me. I smiled, recalling how clumsy I had been setting up the dinner for her. Vampires were supposed to be more graceful than any human. Just fancy! Bella would have proven them wrong.

Jake parked his car on the street and walked toward his apartment. Although he was a grown man, the enthusiasm flooding his thoughts resembled that of a kid.

"We're celebrating this evening!" he shrieked upon entering his home, so loud that he informed the whole neighborhood of his plans. "I've got the job!"

Through his mind, I saw as Bella hugged him. _Warm skin against warm skin_, I sighed. _He doesn't need to be careful around her_. The growl that erupted in me when she kissed him on the cheek threatened to overcome the sound of their laughter.

"I want to know everything. Tell me every single detail!" she encouraged him, her heartbeat increasing and matching his in excitement.

"I've spoken with the director of the National Park of Abruzzo," he began.

Bella had mentioned that Jake was a veterinarian. I had never been to the park he was talking about, but it was about three hundred miles from there. Did he need to go so far to find a job?

"He has read my studies about the wolves and is interested in supporting my research about the Apennine wolf. I'm starting there within a couple of weeks." He began to list the other animals he would take care of as a veterinarian in the National Park: Marsican brown bears, Abruzzo chamois, Apennine wolves, red deer...to me, they seemed like the courses of a menu.

"Sounds great, Jake!" Through my neighbor's mind, I saw Bella's eyes shining with pride. "I'm so happy for you. Will you have enough time to find accommodation there? You aren't going to live in the pack's den, right?" she joked.

His thoughts shifted abruptly, his enthusiasm replaced by worry. "About that, sweetie, there's something we need to discuss."

I heard them pulling out a couple of chairs and sitting at the table. "What is it?" she asked.

Unwittingly Jake revealed the answer to me before he could tell Bella. "I've been told that finding an accommodation close to the park area won't be difficult at all. There are many houses up for rent during the summer, while they're empty in winter. If I find an accommodation in a few weeks and take a lease for the entire year, I'll have a wide choice. For the same money I pay here, I'd get a detached house over there."

"That's good news," she told him. "Why do you seem so upset?"

"I told you that you could stay here as long as you wanted. But I can't keep two leases at the same time." He huffed. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I have to leave this house."

For a long moment, Bella remained silent. Though his eyes, I saw her frowning. Then she surprised both her roommate and me. "So, where are we going to celebrate tonight?" she asked, her bright smile back in place. "Think about the most posh place in town, because you're taking me there and you're buying, okay?"

"Bella, about the money and the lease..." Jake tried. I was quicker than him to do the math. His apartment was big and well-furnished, and his mind let me know that, so far, he had let Bella contribute to less than half of the expenses, without her knowing. His salary at the park wouldn't be more than he was currently earning as a veterinarian. With her salary, if she wished to remain in this town, Bella would have to move to smaller house or take a roommate.

"Listen to me," she ordered sternly. "You've been waiting for months to get this opportunity. It's a great step for your career and we're going to celebrate properly. I'll happily spend all my salary to keep this house if this means that you're doing what you like most."

"It's not like that. I can give you what I still have, after paying my new lease," he offered. "I feel bad for leaving you in trouble on such short notice."

"If you do something like that, or if you try to settle me with a new roommate, ravenous wolves are going to look tame next to what I'll do to you," she threatened.

I could have bought Bella's apartment on the spot, but her reaction to Jake's offer told me that convincing her to accept any help wouldn't be as simple as buying the house.

"Don't worry about me," she told him finally, softening her tone. "I can take care of myself, and I'll be fine. After all, it's just until the end of the school year. Then I'll move, too."

A hundred days, more or less: almost nothing, for a vampire. In that short amount of time, Bella was going to leave. New people would live in the house where she had welcomed me. The little stars on her ceiling were going to be removed – I imagined the new tenants complaining about the trace of glue the stickers might leave on the plaster.

I would be deprived of the opportunity to even imagine where, how and with whom Bella's life would go on. Her days would continue on other paths, where there wasn't anything that could remind her of me, of _us_. My one consolation in death vanished. The abyss that was already waiting for me suddenly seemed darker and colder.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

In this chapter, Edward has described himself with these words: "Alone in a foreign country, my revenge already planned, as well as my death." The literary suggestion for this chapter is _The Tartar Steppe _(1940) by Dino Buzzati. Reviewers will get an excerpt from that novel.

In canon, Serena is a human/vampire hybrid, older sister of Nahuel. She's mentioned in _Breaking Dawn_. In this story, she's only a human woman with an Italian name.

The National Park of Abruzzo, located in Central Italy, is one of the most important Italian parks.

Many thanks (they deserve something more precious than money) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**. This chapter was partially rewritten thanks to Jmolly's precious suggestions, and all the wonderful ladies above worked on it again. You rock!

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).

Thanks to Emergency Beta Service – part of this chapter was written during an Emergency Beta Writing Boot Camp.


	20. Handbag

_RAUM_

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20 – Handbag<strong>

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><p>Thursday, March 8, 2007<p>

The car radio was still switched on when I picked up Bella to go to school. The only radio show I used to listen to – Fifties' Greatest Hits, good for elderly insomniacs and nostalgic vampires – was coming to its end. Bella stopped me as I went to switch the radio off. I enjoyed the light touch of her fingers on the back of my hand like a human would have enjoyed wearing warm gloves on a chilly day.

"May we listen to the news, please?" she asked. "I haven't gotten a chance to look at a newspaper yet."

"Sure."

The speaker blabbed about the umpteenth scandal and the everlasting economic crisis. I had survived (no pun intended) the 1929 stock market crash; very few crises could still surprise me. By the time the announcer began to deal with the crime news, I was grateful that the whole newscast wasn't supposed to last more than five minutes.

_Leo__ – __the __name __is __fictional__ – __didn't __get __a __blue __ribbon __or __a __crib __to __mark __his __birth. __He __didn't __get __the __love __of __his __parents, __either. __A __newborn __was __abandoned __in __the __garbage __last __night. __Due __to __the __cold __weather, __he __suffered __hypothermia, __and __the __doctors __couldn__'__t __save __his__ life. __He __was __pronounced __dead __soon __after __being __brought __to __the __hospital. __It__'__s __the __second __case __of __newborn __abandonment __reported __since __the __beginning __of __the __year._

Everything around me disappeared. It was as if I had been sucked away from my car, from the sounds of the city that was still awakening in the winter morning and the presence of Bella, her warmth, her scent, her love. Against every law of time or space, I felt myself slammed back in Chicago, more than a century ago.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Edward, Edward!"

How long had Bella been calling my name? I barely registered that she was trying to shake my arm, without being able to move it an inch. Good thing that the heavy coat I was wearing had prevented her from feeling the icy texture of my skin. Had she noticed that she couldn't make me move? Her widened eyes told me how frightened she was.

"Edward." She sighed as she registered that my eyes were finally meeting hers. "What happened? Where did you go? You didn't even move. You were just staring into space."

I looked around me. The car sat unmoving at the side of the road. Had I somehow managed to park it before...what? Going into a trance? Were vampires capable of going mad?

I passed a hand over my face, rubbing at my eyes. For the first time since I had become an immortal creature, I felt I couldn't see clearly. Bella's ragged breaths were like arrows on me; I could have lost the control of the car and ended up against a tree trunk. I probably could have walked away, but not her.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm not feeling well."

I recoiled as she leaned a hand on my shoulder.

She withdrew her hand. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked softly.

I shook my head. "I just felt dizzy." I would have never imagined that I could actually say something like that and it would be true.

"What can I do? I don't feel comfortable driving, you know..." she said sheepishly. "I can call Jake and ask him to pick us up."

I shook my head. Meeting her roommate when I was in the middle of a breakdown would have been just the icing on the cake.

Attempting to get my bearings, I looked at the street in front of us. I could still detect every single detail – the thoughts of a worried mother told me that she was late taking her children to school. I could hear the struggling footsteps of a fat woman who was walking in a street nearby – she shouldn't have chosen high-heeled shoes if they gave her such a limp. Everything was back just as it was supposed to be.

"I'm better," I could finally say. "It's only been a moment, Bella. I'm fine."

She stopped me as I went to start the car. "Edward, are you really okay?"

My eyes bored into hers. "You know I'm not lying to you. Let me take you to school."

"Will you call me if you need anything?"

_Don__'__t __lie_. How could I tell her what I needed if I didn't even know what had happened? "Just stay calm and focus on your work day," I told her. "I'll send you a text as soon as I get home, so you'll know that I'm not driving anymore. Deal?"

Reluctantly, she agreed.

Getting back home wasn't difficult. Fighting my nightmares proved to be impossible, instead. I felt nauseous at the thought that a garbage can had become the tomb of a baby. I didn't go hunting: I knew that if I were to give myself over to my senses, I would have killed any human I met along the way to the woods. _Humans? _Even the wildest beasts showed more respect than the humans toward babies.

I imprisoned myself at home.

I was too weak to face the enemies who were torturing me from the inside. In front of them, curled up, I couldn't help but succumb.

"_Why __have __you __punched __James, __Edward?__"_

_As __I __opened __my __mouth __to __tell __Mrs. __Varner__ about __James __calling __me __a __piece __of __shit, __I __had __to __swallow __back __my __tears. __I __hadn__'__t __cried __when __James __had __kicked __me __in __the __balls;__ I __wasn__'__t __going __to __do __it __in __front __of __a __woman, __even __if__ the __woman __was __the __steely __Mrs. __Varner. __I __bowed __my __head __and __remained __silent._

"_Edward. __You __have __to __answer __a __question __when __I __ask __it!__" _

_I didn't worry about Mrs. Varner's coldness. The raps I was going to get on my knuckles because of the fight with James were enough to keep me worried. _

_James__' __words __continued __to __resonate __in __my __mind.__ "__Little __shit. __Your __mother __forgot __to __flush __when __she __crapped __you __out.__" _

I breathed again only when James and Mrs. Varner retreated to the distance of my human memories. How long since my roommate and the orphanage governess had gone among the dead? If I could have prayed, I would have asked just to erase those memories. No torture could be worse.

"_I can't stand you anymore!" the governess had yelled._

_I forgot her name; she hadn't spent more than a few months in the orphanage. But the memory of her words couldn't fade. _

"_You'll never be any good," she had hissed, sending me away from her office. "No wonder that not even your parents wanted you," she muttered under her breath. _

For the first time, instead of accepting that message, I wanted to defend myself, but she was long dead. There was nobody to confront. In a fit of rage, I tore open my shirt, reducing it to shreds. I threw a book against the wall. It switched on the light in the living room before falling on the floor, pages scattered. I fell to the floor, feeling powerless.

For hours, I fought against my human memories. It was late in the evening when someone knocked at my door. I didn't move. Another knock: Bella. I would have recognized her heartbeat anywhere.

I stood up and looked around. I picked up the pieces of the objects I had trashed in my anger and put them in the garbage. I supposed Bella would go away, since I hadn't answered. Instead I heard her pacing up and down, apparently still waiting on my doorstep. Stubbornly, she knocked again.

I resolved myself to open the door.

"Edward!" Her eyes widened as she looked at me.

I didn't even greet her.

"I know it's late," she said sheepishly, "but I've been busy at school all day long, and I was worried for you. Were you sleeping?"

I grimaced at her question. "Definitely not sleeping," I scoffed.

"I didn't want to disturb you," she stammered. "I saw that the lights in your living room were on and I thought..."

"What?" I snapped. "I wasn't playing the piano or making noise this time. Are you going to complain about the lights too, now?"

She bailed at my outburst. "Sorry." Her voice broke. "Coming here was a mistake," she mumbled, walking away.

"Wait!" I called, stabbed with remorse.

She stopped in her tracks but didn't turn toward me. As I leaned a hand on her shoulder, I felt a suppressed sob. She didn't deserve to be treated that way; the sooner she took her leave, the less damage I would do.

"Please, forgive me," I told her, trying to soften my tone. "I'm in bad shape. It's been a tough day, there's something..." I hesitated, uncertain about what could I admit to her.

"Let me guess," she deadpanned, "something you can't talk about, right?"

I sighed. Was it true? I had never shared my human past with anyone but Carlisle. The fear that, if not in my siblings' words, I would be forced to witness their pity in their thoughts, had always stopped me. No one knew. No human had ever known what the life of Edward – the rejected baby, the wanderer, the failure – had been. Nor how it had ended.

If I had still been human, I would have trembled at the thought of what I was going to tell her. "Would you come inside?"

Bella didn't move. Despite not being able to read her mind, I knew the reason for her hesitation. But I didn't want her to believe that I wanted to shut her out. Not anymore.

She turned toward my chest, her head bowed. I took her hand in mine and led her in my living room, where she settled on the couch. I shuddered, recalling what had happened to me in the last few hours. _What __if __I __lose __my __control? _I couldn't stay close to her. I went to stand by the window.

She looked up at me and blinked back her tears.

I averted my eyes from her and began to tell my story. "Do you remember the news we heard in the morning at the radio? The newborn?"

"Leo," she murmured.

I nodded. I wouldn't have thought she could recall the name of the abandoned child. "His story is my own, Bella." I took a deep breath. "From what I've been told, I was no more than a few hours old when I was found."

She straightened, like she was preparing to come toward me, but then stopped. Her eyes locked with mine. The tenderness of her gaze didn't hold any petty curiosity, nor the pity I had been afraid of. With a slight nod, she indicated I could go on.

"I was dumped." The words were gall in my mouth. "Like you would get rid of a piece of garbage. I was dumped in a handbag, in Chicago, where I should have ended up dead."

Bella's heart skipped a beat. I swallowed hard. How much could I tell her?

"I've already told you I wasn't a child anymore when I was adopted. For years, I asked myself what had happened to my parents. There were days when I imagined they had been forced to leave me. It was the only way to keep my sanity. Other times I wondered about the way they looked." I recalled how odd it had been for me, growing up without knowing who I resembled. "I hated that I was never going to know my roots."

I recalled the pictures of Elisabeth and Edward Masen I had finally acquired over the years. I had even a color photo of them – it had shown me that I had inherited my reddish-brown hair from my mother. But the answers I'd been looking for had arrived too late.

"Eventually, I discovered who my natural parents were. They are both dead now," I went on quietly. "They had already died when I was informed of their identity." I clenched my fists in rage, recalling the confrontation with Carlisle. "Once I had a clue, I tried to follow every hint to get to know more about them." I didn't mention the obstinacy with which, for years, I had collected everything I could find about the Masens. "You know what? They didn't seem like bad people. They had a place in society, they were respected, and they even gave a lot of money to charities."

The documents gathered by Carlisle had shown that Elisabeth and Edward Masen had supported many orphanages in Chicago. How did they pick them? Did they throw money here and there, hoping to give it to me, in some way?

"I was the one who didn't fit in their life," I acknowledged. "I've always been nothing but a failure. I'm a curse to anyone who gets too close to me. I guess that at this point my adoptive family would also confirm that the best thing for everyone would have been if I'd died in that damn handbag."

The silence that wrapped around us as I finished telling Bella my human history scared me.

"Now you know," I murmured, struggling to fill the void with words, however inane.

I shut my eyes closed and swallowed hard. _Here __I __am_. I had never felt so exposed. Bella's heartbeat and her breathing were the only sounds I focused on, using them as guides toward the quiet refuge of her mind. Once again, in her mental silence I found what I could most compare to peace. The image of her lips filled my memories. I recalled their silky texture and licked my mouth, thinking about the soft warmth she had offered me with her kisses. After what I had told her about me, those same lips had the power to hurt me with a single word.

Her scent became more intense. A wave of warmth surrounded me as her tentative footsteps signaled that she was approaching. The air came out from my lungs in ragged breaths. _Don__'__t __hurt __me_, I pleaded. She couldn't know that in front of her there was no supernatural being, no predator, no creature gifted with inhuman strength: almost a century ago, as a kid, I had had to learn to build defenses over defenses. Now they had fallen. I cringed at the thought of how vulnerable it made me.

"I'm here for you." Bella's voice was so tender that felt like a velvet touch, even if we were still divided by a short distance.

Another slow step. I allowed myself a sigh, welcoming her scent down my nose and throat. No venom flooded in my mouth, but my guts clenched. _She __won__'__t __hurt __you_. I felt as if my knees were weak, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. On the contrary, it was as if I could relax my muscles, perhaps drop myself on the ground, knowing that she wasn't going to let me fall. Was it...was it trust? Was it hope?

"I'm here," she repeated. Her voice faltered on the last syllable. _Don__'__t __fight_, I told myself. _For __once, __you __don__'__t __need __to __fight_. It was as if the burden of the world was lifted from my shoulders. Bella's arms wrapped around me more tightly than I would ever have imagined. From every point where her skin touched mine – my chest, my neck, my back – I felt that I had found a refuge, a support, new strength.

"Let it go," she murmured. "Let it go, Edward."

How many times had I gotten the same invitation? How many times had I tried to "let go," to trust the person in front of me, just to be disappointed?

I would have never been able to say if it was her, the tone of her voice, or the way she called my name, but for the first time in a century I didn't bail. I collapsed into the warmth of her embrace.

A new wave of memories shook me. Fragments of my human past began to flood my mind: the revolting smell of the slums, the nights I had been beaten on the streets, the sour taste of sweat mingled with my attacker's blood and mine.

As I, trapped in my mental images, distanced myself from Bella, her grip became tighter. _I__'__m __here,_she had said. Her scent comforted me – I wasn't in the slums anymore; I wasn't going to be bullied and beaten. _Let __it __go_, she had encouraged me. A salty smell floated in the room. Bella was crying. She wasn't sobbing, nor did she move away. I leaned a hand on her cheek. The moisture of her tears was almost scorching compared to the coldness of my fingers. I trembled. One shake, then two: before I could completely realize what was happening, we went on our knees, and I sobbed in her arms.

Bella raised her hands. Her fingers brushed my hair. I leaned my head on her chest; I could feel her heartbeat against my cheek. She didn't stop running her fingers on my scalp – wasn't that what a mother would have done to comfort me? There was no way I could ever find it.

I swallowed again, fighting against my sobs. What would Bella think if she noticed that I was shedding no tears? I pushed that thought away: for decades I had believed that keeping my true nature a secret was my first concern. Instead, every rule about secrecy seemed nothing more than a quibble, compared to what I had revealed to her about myself.

"Stay," I told her. "Stay with me," I pleaded, my voice less strangled. What was I asking for? Even forever wouldn't have been enough. I joined my hands behind her back. I couldn't tighten my embrace around her in the way I needed – I would have crushed her – but I intertwined my fingers together. Should I have been so inclined, there was no way she could leave my arms against my will. Wasn't it the unbreakable grip that had circled my prey, hunt after hunt? Not this time. My words hadn't been the order of a predator who controlled his victims, luring them into staying – as if obeying my orders could have given them a chance to get their lives spared. Instead, my plea was that of a refugee who was asking for a drop of fresh water. I actually felt the most welcome taste on my lips: Bella's kiss as she sealed her promise.

"I'll stay," she assured me. "I'll stay as long as you want."

I caressed her cheek. "I don't deserve your tears," I mumbled.

With a shushing sound, she buried her face in my hair, close to my ear. Her fingers went through my tousled strands again.

"Do you have a tub in your bathroom?" she asked me softly.

Frowning, I looked at her. As my dry eyes met hers, still puffy because of her crying, the hint of a smile rested on her lips.

"A tub?" I repeated.

She nodded. "I think that you could use a hot bath." Her fingers brushed my forehead, then went down, following the profile of my cheekbone. "I can prepare it for you," she suggested, her voice a thin whisper.

I guided her to the bathroom. Leaning still against the washbasin, I stared at her as she filled the tub with hot water.

A drop of sweat appeared on her forehead as the room got heated by the steam. I followed her gestures as she put some foam bath in the water – the musky notes of sandalwood mingling with her unique scent. Her loose hair fell like a curtain over her left shoulder and breast when she leaned over the tub and waved a hand in it, testing the water.

"My grandma used to say that there's nothing like a hot bath after a tough day," she recalled. She turned toward me. "It's ready."

I swallowed hard and gripped the counter behind me when she approached. Her hand, still wet and warmer because of the hot water, glided over the nape of my neck. She pulled down my head, searching for my mouth again. Her lips brushed over mine, lightly.

My hands circled her shoulders, pulling her toward me. Even her sweater seemed an irritating obstacle: I needed to feel her skin on me. Bella tugged at my belt, opening it. She stopped as I stiffened.

"Let me," she murmured.

"I can't resist you," I stammered, my voice hoarse.

The sweetness of her smile melted the last shreds of my defenses. "You don't need to," she told me softly.

I took her hands in mine and brought them to my lips. "Join me," I whispered.

Bella's heart rumbled in her chest as we undressed ourselves and stood naked in front of each other.

I distanced myself from her to better take in her features. My eyes roamed the soft weight of her breasts, her flat stomach, the light downy hairs just above her sex. I supported her by the arm, and we lowered ourselves into the tub.

The water covered me in heat; I allowed it a few seconds to warm my skin, hoping that I would feel less inhuman to Bella. I couldn't last long, though: with a quick slosh, I gathered her in my arms again. Her hands began to pour water on my chest, caressing my shoulders, rubbing on my stomach. A moan escaped me. With reverence, she rinsed away the nightmares that had tortured me all day.

I mirrored her gestures, wiping her dried tears. I turned her in my lap, making her lean her back against my chest, and embracing her from behind. The peaks of her breasts hardened as my arms glided over them. I gathered aside her hair and began to massage her shoulders, trying to ease the tension she had there; it seemed that Bella's body had shared my agony.

But when I shifted, trying to distance my arousal from her, my movement and my intentions didn't go unnoticed. Bella left my lap and went to my side, without breaking the contact between our bodies. She blushed, looking at the foamy water between us. Then, with a quick splash, she put a hand under the water, reaching out for me. Again I sealed the distance between us, my body encircling hers. I skimmed my nose on her collarbone, brushed my lips on her wet skin. Our breathing mingled and became faster.

The fusion of our bodies would match the bond that had already been tied in our hearts.

"Isabella."I murmured her name, the sweet name of the only woman who could show me what love truly meant. Bella's fingers tightened on my shoulders as I spread her open. I immediately stopped, afraid that I was causing her discomfort – or worse, that I was hurting her.

She sighed, tilting herself toward me. "Don't...don't stop," she moaned.

_Oh __Bella, __yes,_ I thought, pushing myself into her. Slowly, I moved further, careful not to harm her in any way. I was aware of her human fragility, defenseless in front of my stony body; I knew her luscious blood called my predatory instinct. My movements were slow and guarded; I couldn't allow myself to lose control. But more than that, I had the deep desire to tell her with every thrust how much I cherished her.

Her heat wrapped around me, pulling me inside her. I wasn't even supposed to exist anymore, but I had broken every rule of time and place; I had crossed a century and two continents to arrive in Bella's arms, where I belonged.

I felt her tightening around me, her body tensing in my arms like a bow ready to shoot an arrow. My thrusts became deeper, and I let out a low growl. Bella's ragged breaths turned into the scream that shook her in her orgasm, followed by my release.

Rolling shudders of bliss coursed up and down my spine. Waves of heat crashed over me, leaving me overwhelmed. I wanted to drown in the feeling. I had no names for such an unbridled pleasure – it was Bella's gift for me, and that meant everything.

I held her close to me, with my arms curling her into my body.

Bella sighed in my embrace. "Edward." She rolled my name on her tongue, as if she was savoring it. "You deserve to be loved." I held my breath as her eyes searched mine, and she smiled at me. "You are loved," she affirmed.

I buried my face in the crook of her neck. "I wish you could feel the complexity…the confusion I feel. That I could explain what you mean to me," I confessed.

My fingers drew lazy circles on her back until the water lost its warmth.

"Come." I eased us out of the tub. "It's getting cold."

I wrapped her in a towel and quickly dried myself. She rubbed at her weary eyes and suppressed a yawn. Once again, I looked in awe at her humanity. _She's __real. __She's __alive, __and __she's __here __for __me_. She fluttered her eyes open, fighting against her tiredness; her hand cupped my cheek.

In silence, in the darkness of my bedroom, my caresses accompanied her toward her rest. I hovered over her, following the changing in her heartbeat as she began to dream. She stirred in her slumber.

"I wish I could follow in your dreams," I murmured to her, "only to keep you safe." I struggled to remember how dreaming felt. No memories resurfaced from my human past.

For the first time in a century, my nightmares were kept at bay, too. Bella had pushed them away. She had fought against my grievances and been at my side when I had faced a century of hate and sorrow. She could heal my human past.

I laid beside her, staring at the ceiling. The years I had spent with the Cullens – and the choices I had made afterward – replayed in my memory. What was I but an inhuman creature, a relentless killer, a deadly weapon ready to strike again? Bella had given me peace. Could I hope to deserve it?

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

"_I __stretched/ __Myself __in __an __urn __of __water,/ __Like __a __relic, __and __rested. __[__…__] __And __it __is __there __I/ __Most __see __myself/ __In __the __universe/ __A __compliant/ __Thread./ __My __pain __is/ __When __I __do __not __believe/ __Myself __in __harmony./ __But __those __hidden/ __Hands __give __as__ they __knead __me/ __A __rare __joy./ __I __have __relived/ __The __stages __of __my __life."_ Giuseppe Ungaretti, _Rivers_.

Many thanks to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**. Thanks also to Emergency Beta Service.

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	21. Ticket

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21 – Ticket<strong>

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><p>Friday, March 9, 2007<p>

_Heat __oven __to __180 __degrees __C_, I read. _Put __the __frozen __croissants __on __a __lightly__-__floured __pan. _Done.

Since I had met Bella, I had widened the variety of human food I kept at home for appearance's sake; with her around, some food could actually come in handy. Looking at the directions on the cake carton, I blessed the day when, just in case, I had bought some frozen pastries.

_Bake __15 __minutes __or __until __golden __brown. _I glanced at the clock. She was still sleeping, curled up in my bed. Recalling Jake's morning routine at their home, I set the coffee on. The aroma of the coffee and the croissants cooking in the oven invaded the kitchen and, unfortunately, my nostrils, too. I cracked the window open, welcoming the cool air.

Bella let out a moan; I detected the sound of her legs rustling the sheets. She was waking up. I took the croissants out of the oven, remembering at the last second to put on an unnecessary oven mitt. Esme did the same at home – the more we got used to imitating humans' behavior, the less we were prone to slip in our masquerade.

By the time I went back to the bedroom, Bella was already stretching.

"Good morning," I told her softly.

"Hey," she greeted me, her voice still thick. "Good morning to you." With a wide smile, she reached out her arms toward me.

I sat on the blanket beside her. Thanks to her warmth and scent, my unused bed had become a cozy nest.

She cleared her throat. "What time is it?"

"Last time I checked, it was eight."

Her eyes widened.

"It's Friday," I rushed to add, guessing why she suddenly appeared so concerned. "Isn't it your free day?"

Her sigh of relief made me chuckle. Just a few hours ago, I wouldn't have thought possible that something could still amuse me.

"I've been working so much for that damn project at school that a whole free week wouldn't be enough," she complained.

"How is it going?"

"Really well, actually. We've found a lot of material, and it seems that the colleague who had the idea was right after all. The students are enthusiastic, and I can assure you that doesn't happen so often when a teacher wants them to do a school project."

"I can imagine," I scoffed, recalling how many times I'd witnessed how bored and annoyed students were when teachers gave them additional homework. But I focused on the mention of her colleague, which made me hope that the project would be over soon.

"How were you, as a student?" she wondered.

"What do you want to know?"

A flash of amusement flickered in her eyes. "I don't know...were you a nerd? Did you use to wear thick glasses and braces?"

I grinned at her. "Neither. I looked much like I am now. No glasses, no braces, and no pimples, if you were wondering."

"A handsome genius?" she challenged.

"Why are you so sure that I had such good grades?"

She shrugged. "Am I right?"

I gave her a sheepish smile. "I guess you are," I admitted. "I even got a prize on my junior year." I didn't know why I suddenly bragged about it, but the way she beamed at me warmed my heart. I wanted to enjoy our carefree conversation as long as we could and tell her every anecdote I could share. I'd have given anything to see her smiling again at me as proud as she was now, as if I'd just told her that I'd won the Nobel Prize.

"Was the prize for music?"

"Nope. Chemistry."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "See? A genius. The brightest student of...where did you attend high school?"

The question wasn't strange, but it caught me off guard. "Portland, Oregon," I answered. "My father worked at the local hospital." Of all the colleges and high schools I had attended, the first name that came to mind was the city where I was living at the time I left the Cullens. I had continued to study, but I hadn't enrolled in high school or college since then.

Just the mention of the city, and I felt as if I were back there with my adoptive family. My mood change didn't go unnoticed by Bella. I rubbed at my eyes, pretending I was a bit sleepy, but I didn't fool her. She knew what turn my thoughts were taking.

She rose to sit on the bed and took my hand in hers. Her expression softened as she gazed into my eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't come to check on you earlier yesterday. I was busy all day at school, but after what had happened in the morning I should have..."

I silenced her, putting a finger on her lips. I caressed them, enjoying their softness. "I don't want to hear the word _sorry_ from your mouth anymore, okay?" I cringed, recalling the way I had treated her when she had come to see how I was faring. "I wish I could explain..." I stopped myself. I had never considered talking with her about myself, but was I still sure she wouldn't understand? Or was I already putting my walls back up between us? "One day I'll tell you more about the importance of what you did for me yesterday," I promised.

She gave my hand a light squeeze. _She's __here, _I thought, _she's __still __here __for __me_. She had kept her promise and hadn't left. Was I going to keep mine?

"I've made breakfast," I announced. Having a human guest forced me to recall movies, books, thoughts and whatever else I had collected about their habits. Was I supposed to bring her a tray with her breakfast? Did she need to go to the bathroom? "I'll wait for you in the kitchen."

I checked the croissants and the cup of coffee I had put on the table; they didn't seem any different from those I had seen in movies. Bella joined me and took a chair. I motioned to the food. "I hope it's edible."

She chuckled at my embarrassment and took a sip of coffee. "It's perfect." She tore a piece of croissant. "Are you busy today?"

"No." I thought about my study and the stack of paper I had collected there about Robert Sawyer. His concerts, his successes, articles about the illness that had interrupted his career...just a few days ago I had put on the top of the pile the ticket for the opening concert he was going to conduct at the Maggio Fiorentino Festival. At this point, I had nothing to do but wait...unless...

A startling thought occurred to me. I trembled as I considered taking another road. I could tear up the ticket, wreck my plans, renounce my revenge. When Robert Sawyer was enjoying his soirée of glory, I would take Bella on a date, a hundred miles away from my target.

My conflicting thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

"About yesterday, there's something I'd like to ask you," Bella told me quietly.

"Go ahead."

"You mentioned your adoptive family."

"I did." Despite my intentions, my tone was clipped.

"You haven't seen them in a while, right?"

"A long while," I confirmed. I wondered about the reaction she would have had if she had known that the _while_ was much longer than she had been alive.

An awkward silence fell between us. I would have liked to be able to tell her that she didn't need to be so hesitant and I was ready to answer her questions. But I wasn't. Not yet, at least.

"You said you consider yourself a..." she didn't complete her sentence. "You said your adoptive family would have preferred that you died."

I remembered what I had told her. _I __am __a __failure. __I __am __a __curse._ Why was she afraid to say it out loud? She had edited her previous words, blaming my family instead of me. How would she react if she knew what I had done? Did she think she was dealing with the poor victim of an uncaring adoptive family?

I looked at her straight in the eyes. "They have the right to think so," I stated, my voice cold.

Bella flinched but didn't avert her eyes. There was still kindness in her gaze. _The __truth __would __be __too __much, _I considered. _I'm __not __ready __to __see __her __run __away __from __me. __I'm __not __ready __to __see __kindness __fade __away __from __her__ eyes__, __replaced __by __horror __and __fear._

I saw realization dawning on her. She took a deep breath before speaking again. "Because of the terrible things you said you've done?"

I nodded.

"Wouldn't your family forgive you?" she whispered. Her eyes became glassy with tears. "You told me to try to go beyond the guilt, that I deserve acceptance. Couldn't it be the same for you?"

Defeated, I shook my head. Even if I spared my next victim, I couldn't escape the debt of so much human life taken, no matter how justified. The only way to kill the monster I had created was to die with him.

_If __there __were __a __way __to __be __with __you, __Bella._"I lack the main requisite to be forgiven," I muttered.

She frowned at me. "Which is?"

"Repentance."

I recalled the choices I had made and the ones Carlisle had taken from me. My destiny was sealed. Hadn't it been so since my sire had found me on my deathbed?

"You told me to go home, to try to talk with Mike's parents," she reminded me softly. "Tell me that it's not too late for you either."

_It's __always __been __too __late._Wasn't it the consequence of Carlisle's decision? Hadn't he resolved to wait until it wasn't possible anymore for me to meet the Masens, since he didn't trust me? "What if I've already bought my ticket to Hell?"

"I wouldn't let you go," she blurted.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"So tell me!"

I remained silent in the wake of her outburst. We stared at each other. Her lower lip trembled – she was on the verge of tears but swallowed them back.

I sighed. "There's so much that you don't know about me."

"But I know enough to be sure that I don't want to be without you."

I let out an exasperated breath at her stubbornness. "You can't want it." She couldn't choose me. She wouldn't if only she knew the truth. I was deluding myself hoping otherwise, and it would only cause more pain to us both.

Bella stood up and walked toward the door. "I hope one day you'll trust me." Her voice was calm again. "I hope you'll let _me_ decide what I want."

The day I had left the Cullens came back to my mind. Was I taking away her choices, just like Carlisle had done to me? I went beside her and circled her hunched shoulders.

"It's better if I go," she said lamely. "I'll be at home all day, though. Jake has organized a dinner with some friends tonight, but if there's anything..."

I drew her toward my chest. Was it the last time she was letting me embrace her? She thought I didn't trust her. It felt so wrong. There was no one I'd ever trusted more than her. _I'm __losing __her __this __way_. "Would you come here for dinner tomorrow?"

She nodded, then opened the door and left.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Saturday, March 10, 2007

The heartbeat of the second, younger deer, which had gone unnoticed so far, made me stop in my tracks. I gulped, suppressing my thirst, and let the fawn sprint away with its mother. The trees around me became a blur as I ran in the opposite direction. By the time the fawn became an adult, he wouldn't need to be worried about a vampire hunting in the woods where he lived.

I allowed myself the flick of a dream: Bella and I running together in the woods, without any need for me to hide from her. Speed was the only aspect of my nature that I wouldn't have been ashamed to show her.

I let my memories lead me back to decades ago, to the day of Esme's first run with Carlisle. I recalled the moment he had told her about what he was and what she had become. Centuries after the end of my existence, long after any traces of Bella's life on this earth would have disappeared, somewhere in the world Carlisle and Esme would continue to love each other. I thought about Elisabeth and Edward Masen. How had they felt when death had pried them apart? They had spent decades together, for better or for worse. If there were any afterlife, were they reunited again? Was their son Anthony with them?

None of that was possible for Bella and me. A sharp pang of longing hit me at the thought that we wouldn't stay together as long as I desired.

_What __if __I __tell __her __everything? _Absurd as it was, the idea began to tempt me. She would have thought that I was crazy. _I __want __her __to __know __me. __I __have __always __wanted __her __to __know __the _real _me_. Would she believe me? Would she believe I had never wanted to lie to her?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Walking back toward my house, I spotted Bella on my doorstep. When she noticed me, her heart pounded in her chest—but not out of joy. She was tense, a thousand questions in her eyes. She clutched a piece of paper in her hand, clearly nervous. I tried to embrace her, but she recoiled from my touch.

"Bella, what's wrong?" I urged.

She gave me the folded sheet.

"Good evening, Edward. Or should I say, Mr. Cullen?"

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Someone is in trouble...tell me your theories!

As Oscar Wilde said in _The __Importance __of __Being __Earnest_, "The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

Many thanks (and a ticket, LOL) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**. Go read their stories!

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	22. Scrapbook

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Time to drop the bomb...

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22 – Scrapbook<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Previously...<em>

_Walking back toward my house, I spotted Bella on my doorstep. When she noticed me, her heart pounded in her chest—but not out of joy. She was tense, a thousand questions in her eyes. She clutched a piece of paper in her hand, clearly nervous. I tried to embrace her, but she recoiled from my touch. _

"_Bella, what's wrong?" I urged._

_She gave me the folded sheet. _

"_Good evening, Edward. Or should I say, Mr. Cullen?"_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Saturday, March 10, 2007

The sheet Bella gave me smelled of fresh ink. She must have used a low cost black and white printer. In a corner, where she'd crushed the paper, the ink had bled, creating a long stain.

My hands trembled when I saw the picture in front of me.

In the yard of the last high school I'd attended, a proud parent must have snapped a picture when I wasn't aware. I was portrayed with a couple of my schoolmates, during the celebrations after the graduation ceremony in Portland. I recalled I'd told Bella I'd attended high school in Oregon, but how could have she gotten the photo? The Cullens were always careful to avoid having our pictures in yearbooks.

I struggled in an attempt to read her mind, still barred to me. I made a step toward her, but was met by her sharp intake of breath. I looked at her and attempted a half smile. Her glance met mine, and I saw myself reflected in the wide mirror of her eyes. The reflection showed me I hadn't managed to do more than a grimace.

I focused on the signs from her body language. She seemed worried, but the way she was keeping herself distant from me – and her sidelong glances to the street – told me something else: she was afraid. A question sent a shiver down my back: what else had she found about my past?

"Come in," I said in the soft voice I reserved for putting humans at ease.

The _tempo_ of her heartbeat increased. For the longest moment I doubted that she was going to accept my invitation. Then she followed me inside without a word.

_Be __calm_, I reminded myself. "Bella," I asked her again, smoothly, "what's happened?"

"I searched for high schools in Portland, where you told me you've studied. I thought I could find ideas for my school project, and I was curious to see something from your hometown," she began, her voice trembling. "On the web I saw an electronic scrapbook where your school was mentioned." She clenched her hands in fists, as if she were trying to steady herself. "According to the caption below the picture, this guy is Edward Cullen. Do you see the same resemblance I noticed?"

In the picture I was wearing the graduation gown. It wasn't too typical and didn't show that the photo had been taken thirty-five years ago. I guessed she was confused because she knew me as Edward Masen. I could tell her that it was me, that Cullen was the family name of my adoptive father, but that I didn't want even to hear my old name. But how could a different family name have elicited such a reaction from her, especially since she knew I'd been adopted? Unless...

Bella had mentioned a caption. I had to figure out what it said, beside the names of the people portrayed in the picture. If she knew the date of the photo...I swallowed hard. _That _would have explained her tension, for sure. If it was the case, I had to pretend that the man in the image wasn't me. The printed paper was blurred, although I couldn't say if it depended upon the low quality of the printer or of the image she'd found on the web. I began to consider further explanations...lies, for sure. Could I tell her that I had an uncle called Edward Cullen, and we'd attended the same high school? It was nonsense. How was it possible that the same face recurred not in a natural, but in an adoptive family?

I had to make her talk."I don't understand..." I tried lamely.

"You don't?" She raised her voice. "It should be a mistake, right? Do you have a double? Or did someone write the wrong name below the picture, Mr. _Masen_?"

"You think it's me?" Before I could even finish speaking, the look she shot me signaled that making her doubt the resemblance was out of the question.

She handed me a second sheet. "You tell me."

I unfolded it and began to read.

_Student awarded National Prize for chemistry. _

_Edward Cullen, son of Dr. Carlisle Cullen, Head of Diagnostic Medicine at Portland Teaching Medical Center, recently accepted the Griffith Prize for his outstanding performance in chemistry..._

I averted my eyes from the newspaper article and took in Bella's features. She'd trusted me, and when I had opened up to her, she'd made me feel welcomed and loved. She didn't deserve my lies. She never had. "I used to go by Edward Cullen, since it's my adoptive father's surname," I admitted. "But I never use it. I don't consider myself a Cullen anymore."

My words made her heart skip a beat. With tentative steps, she distanced herself, then reached a chair and leaned her hand on its back, placing it like a fence between us. "The picture belonged to Harold Greene," she revealed.

At the mention of that name, I felt as if the walls were crumbling around us. Harold and I were in the same class, and he was in awe of my perfect we could have become friends, if...there were too many ifs. If I hadn't been a monster...if I hadn't been a mindreader.

I bowed my head, waiting for my sentence. I couldn't resolve to meet her gaze, so I closed my eyes, in an inane attempt to avoid what I knew was coming.

"It was among other pictures of his schoolmates. They were taken from his family album, to be precise." Her voice was feeble, but the words hit me like giant boulders. "The picture has been posted on a website dedicated to the Greene family. The images are well organized in an amazing digital scrapbook." Sarcasm merged with bitterness in her words. "The author of the work is Eleanor Greene. Do you know who she is?"

I could answer her question truthfully; I shook my head.

"She's Mr. Greene's daughter_._So, _Edward_..." The coldness with which she spat my name made me cringe. "Can you explain why you're in front of me, looking no more than twenty-five years old, but you were also attending high school thirty-five years ago? The picture, the prize, your father's profession. Did any stranger set of coincidences ever happen?"

I flinched. She had discovered too much, indeed. In the silence that fell after her words, I felt suffocated. I clung to the sound of her heartbeat, as if it were a beacon in a stormy sea. I had no chance to reach it. I would drown in that hostile sea tonight. The beacon would fade in the distance, just like I would never be able to listen to the music of her heart again.

I looked at the pattern of the floor tiles. Bella and I weren't more than five feet apart, but as her words lingered in the room, I felt that not even a century would have been enough time to overcome the abyss between us. The light, the warmth, the peace she had brought to my existence, were ripped from me.

But I had to grasp at whatever straw of hope was still left. I had to try.

"I will tell you why," I rushed to offer. "I don't age." My voice was so low that I doubted if she had actually heard me. But her look of incredulity signaled that she was listening. "I have a...condition, and not aging is part of it."

"Do you expect me to believe you?" She didn't yell anymore, but her exasperated tone was proof that hope was still far away.

I tried to keep my tone calm. "Try to think of it as an anomaly in my body."

Unexpectedly, her gaze softened. "Is it a disease?" she asked. "Is it what your research is about?"

I shook my head. No more lies, if only I could avoid it. "No. It's not fixable, but it won't get worse. I will stay this way."

She frowned. "How long have you been like this?"

It seemed that every possible answer would only push her further away. "A while."

"What does it mean, a while?" she blurted. "Are you going to tell me how old you are, at least?"

I shrugged. "It would upset you." To keep her, I wasn't above using the tricks that lured my prey – the soft gaze, the mellow tone – but none of them seemed to work.

"As if I weren't already upset!" she barked. "You told me that you wouldn't lie to me! And then you told me that you weren't sick! Doesn't it count as a lie? Wasn't this...condition something worth being mentioned?"

"No. I didn't lie," I told her quietly. "I'm not sick."

"So what is it? A cruel joke? I trusted you, and I opened up with to like I have never done with anyone, only to be fooled." Coldness, contempt, scorn: I had deserved all of them and more in my existence, but hearing them in Bella's voice was excruciating. "I have made love to you," she murmured, her voice hollow.

I bowed my head, defeated. I would have never wanted her to regret it.

She had to swallow back her tears before going on. "You're such a good liar, Edward. I wonder if there's any truth at all in what you've told me since we met. I even believed your story about you as an abandoned child. Another impressive lie, right?"

"No!" I shouted. Before she could take another breath, I took her by the shoulders, not caring to hide my speed and barely controlling my strength. "I would have never lied to you about it and I didn't!"

She struggled to push me away. My grip loosened, but she was trapped between me and the wall. She clutched her shoulder where I had grasped her.

"Have I hurt you?" I stammered, shocked.

"Why would you be concerned?" she seethed. The air was coming out from her lungs in ragged breaths. "The strength, the speed," she recalled, as if she were speaking to herself. "Like that time in my kitchen, when the knife was falling on me." Her heart was throbbing against her ribcage. "Your skin is white, ice-cold. You don't eat food."

I pulled back slowly, leaving her an escape route.

She snapped her head up and bored her eyes into mine. "An anomaly in your cells wouldn't explain all those weird things. No, it's not good enough. _What_ are you?"

"You asked for the truth, but are you ready to handle it?" I snarled.

Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She glanced at the door.

"It's not locked," I spat.

She was hiccupping, but stayed. "I want the truth."

"May I?" I reached for her hand. Surprisingly, she didn't refuse my touch. I brought her palm against my chest, over my heart.

"You d-don't..." she stammered, "you don't h-have a heartbeat!"

"You know my true story, Bella," I told her, softening my tone. "You are the only human who knows it."

Her brows furrowed. "Human?" she repeated, uttering the word slowly, as if it were foreign to her ears.

I nodded. "An immortal creature found me in a hospital in 1919. I was dying of the Spanish influenza. He gave me another kind of...existence."

She opened her mouth as if she were going to object, then looked at her hand on my chest and remained silent.

"The truth has always been in front of your eyes," I murmured. "You just have to admit it."

She blanched at my words, but I didn't stop myself.

"That day in your kitchen, I couldn't let your blood be spilled."

"Blood?" she croaked. "You're talking like a..." She put a hand on her mouth.

"Say it," I urged her. "Out loud."

"Vampire," she muttered under her breath.

For a long moment everything went still. She shrank away from me, but her fear didn't form into coherent words. Only after a handful of long seconds she broke the silence.

"It can't be possible!" she screamed, frantic. "Vampires are not supposed to exist! It can't be!"

Her instincts told her what her conscious mind would never understand: I hadn't lied. Regardless, she didn't want to accept it.

"You have a home! A normal home! We've been together outside. You drive me to school in the morning. It can't be!"

"Are you thinking about sleeping in coffins or turning into bats?" I taunted. "They're all myths. The only thing that isn't a myth is that I'm a monster."

"You said you were adopted. Your parents must have noticed that something was odd!"

"Do you think so?" I scoffed. "What if my _father _was the one who damned me to this existence? What if for decades I belonged to a family of vampires?"

She was horrified; color drained from her face. Her eyes widened. I registered that her hands were trembling. She shivered, frail under the weight my revelation was putting on her shoulders. "You said that your father is a doctor," she recalled.

I suspected that she believed Carlisle fed on his patients, too. Nothing would have been further from the truth. "He is. See? I didn't lie to you about it. My adoptive parents and siblings have learned to live among humans without hurting them. Do you understand now why I am a failure? I am the black sheep."

"But you didn't hurt me." Her voice was a whisper. "Why did you resist, then? That day in my kitchen, all the times we were alone, you could have easily..."

I interrupted her. I couldn't bear the thought of an accident – what could have happened if her blood had been spilled that day – let alone hearing Bella give voice to my fears. "I would never harm you." But seeing her shaking, pale, and in tears told me how wrong I was. I'd hoped I wouldn't harm her body, without considering how deeply I was wounding her soul.

She took another step back until she was leaning on the wall. "But are you going to not resist with someone else?" She gasped as realization dawned on her. "The horrible things you said you've done..."

I braced myself for her rejection. Maybe it could help both Bella and me. The monster I had kept chained in me so far had freed itself and won over me once again. Bella would remember only this; the monster was ready to erase every beloved memory we'd built in our time together. I could only encourage her to run away and be safe. _Forgive __me_. I silently apologized to her for what I was going to do. If I couldn't be accepted by her, I had to scare her up to a point that she wouldn't reveal anything about me. Exposure had to be prevented at all costs.

"Are you getting to the most important point?" My voice was hard. "Are you still concerned about my diet, now?"

"You drink people's blood," she acknowledged, the words barely audible. "Have you..." She paused. "I mean, since I've met you, were there moments when we were together, and you had just killed someone?"

I recoiled in horror at the thought of touching her with the same hands that had just held down humans to be drained, kissing her with lips that..."No." I shook my head. "I have an alternative."

"How so?"

Another piece of my wall fell down. "We can feed on animals' blood. For the first years of my existence I didn't..." _I __didn't __taste __human __blood? _It would have sound as if we were talking about red wines. "I haven't taken human lives since we met."

Bella sighed, seemingly out of relief. How was it possible? Even when I had admitted that I was a monster, in some innermost depth of her soul did she still believe that I wasn't completely evil? Did she still have hope? It was a moment, less than a split second. Then the monster in me broke free.

"But I will!" I snapped. "I spent years killing people. Even before you were born, I was already roaming the world, like Death's scythe. I'm nothing but a leech." I tugged at my hair in exasperation. Why, _why_ had I let her love me if I couldn't reciprocate? "The research I don't talk of concerns my prey's whereabouts. This is the reason I'm in Italy. I've killed, and I'll do it again!"

"Why?" she cried. "After you resisted me, after you chose to spare human lives, why the hell would you kill again?"

"Because it's what I do!" I boomed.

She began to sob, curling up in a corner. "Edward, stop," she pleaded. "I'm scared."

"As you should be!" I growled at her. "Deluding myself, believing that I could change and become anything better, was the darkest kind of blasphemy!"

"Please..." she begged.

"Run!" I said through my teeth, anger filling me. "Run away and forget me, as if I had never existed!"

Her whole body shook as she sobbed frantically.

"Not a word to anyone," I warned. "That's the only thing I ask you to do if you don't want to put your life at stake."

Bella scrambled to her feet, moving toward the door. She stumbled on the doorstep, but didn't stop. I watched her running down the street until she was out of sight.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Your thoughts?

As Oscar Wilde said in _The __Importance __of __Being __Earnest_, "It is a terrible thing for a man to find out suddenly that all his life he has been speaking nothing but the truth."

"Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth." – Buddha

Abundant thanks (and a scrapbook, LOL) to **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**.

The Griffith Prize and the Portland Teaching Medical Center are fictional.

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	23. Visit

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Thank you for the overwhelming response to the previous chapter! You rock!

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23 – Visit<strong>

* * *

><p>Friday, April 13, 2007<p>

The window slowly slid open. It was the middle of the night, and nobody was around. The neighbors were sleeping, their thoughts no more than a soft buzz. Regardless, I cringed at each faint groan of the frame. As silently as possible, I eased myself in Bella's room.

She'd left for Easter Break a little more than twenty-four hours ago. Since then, the thought that I could sneak into her room had been obsessing me. When I entered it, I had to be grateful that I'd waited a little while; although her scent wasn't floating in the apartment in its full force, it elicited so many emotions in me that I felt inebriated. A pang of longing hit me as I recalled the weeks when Bella and I were so close that I became used to her scent, and it didn't burn like a scorching fire anymore. The separation from her had awakened every thirst in me–the bloodlust wasn't even the strongest.

Some of the things I'd noticed on my previous visit–when she had invited me there–had gone. Was she already preparing to leave the apartment? In less than two months, the school year would be over. I wondered if my siblings were graduating again this year – a year I wouldn't see the end of.

Bella had left some magazines piled on the floor beside the bed, their spines facing away from me. There was also a magazine about house rentals; flipping through it, I noticed that some advertisements had been highlighted with a red pen. None of the apartments she had picked was in our town. A new job place, a new town...I imagined her on the first day of the next school year. I daydreamed of her walking in the sunlight, as we had done in Venice, enjoying the warmth and the light that were denied to me. The copper strands of her hair would shine under the sun. Would she get a new haircut, perhaps?

"I miss you," I whispered, as if my words could stay in the air and reach her when she came back to her room.

A couple of empty CD cases were scattered on the shelf where the player had been. The night when Bella had asked me to play for her resurfaced in my memory. She was upset, and I didn't know why, then.

"_Would you play for me?" she had asked. "I can hear you from my room when you play, and it would help me." _

_I'd felt an unusual warmth. Could I actually do something good for her? _

"_I will," I'd promised. If my music could help her, it meant that all the decades I'd spent studying and composing it had been more than worth it. _

I'd done my best to keep my distance from her in the last weeks, to no avail. Every time I heard her voice coming from her home I could understand what Ulysses had felt upon hearing the Sirens' song. I had to admit it: I'd listened in on some of her phone calls. Bella talked very often with Jake. I'd cringed every time I'd heard her laughing with him, proud of the professional successes of her friend. The day I'd heard a scream, when she'd burnt herself cooking, all my might had been necessary to prevent me from rushing to her house. After what I'd done, I could bet that, in her opinion, even burning herself was better than meeting me again.

The green comforter on her bed was gone too; a lighter blanket had taken its place. I recalled the night when, after our lovemaking, she'd slept in my arms. Her hair was tangled and wild around her face, her features relaxed in unconsciousness, her full lips slightly parted. I'd made her regret that, too.

A stack of paper was on the desk. She'd scribbled some notes about school meetings and a couple of phone numbers. I recognized the name beside one of them. _Angela_. Angela was one of Bella's colleagues at school, and they'd become friends since our last night together. For the umpteenth time, the night when Bella had left my house replayed into my mind.

I'd frightened and repulsed her. Like the intended victim in a horror movie, she'd run away, shrieking in terror. I hadn't been able to let her go; similar to a twisted guardian angel, I'd followed her. Whomever she would meet in the town, there wasn't anyone more dangerous than me. I realized it; regardless, I couldn't leave her alone. She'd cried, wandering in the town. She'd tried to avoid the streets, crowded with people who were enjoying their Saturday night, and stuck to narrow alleys, to the point that she'd almost gotten lost.

The following morning, she'd called Angela, explaining that she wasn't feeling well. Bella hadn't said a single word about me, nor had she mentioned any problem with a boyfriend. A boyfriend...had she ever considered me as such? Angela had offered Bella her time and her ability to listen. Then they'd begun to go out together on the weekends –some movies, an art show, plans for a day in the countryside with other friends during Easter break.

At first I'd felt relieved that Bella had a new friend, and a kind one, until...I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. _It's __good __for __her. _I tried to calm down. _It's __the __only __thing __that __matters. _Angela and her boyfriend had already invited Bella to go out with them and one of the boyfriend's buddies. How long would she turn down the invitation, as she'd done so far? The thought that she could fall in love with someone else was still unbearable. It would be someone alive, warm, human – someone like Jake, perhaps Jake himself. _Hopefully __not __Tyler_, I thought dryly. _Damn __him __and __his __school __project._

I'd never been the one Bella was destined to say _yes_ to. "_I __trusted __you, __I __opened __up __with __you __like __I __have __never __done __with __anyone_," she had said. She was right: I'd fooled her and myself. Even if I could have stayed, what could I have offered her? Being with her and leave her human? Or was I going to consider, in unforgivable selfishness, taking away her life and making her like me, to keep her forever? Just the idea made me shiver.

Would Bella recover after I had hurt her so deeply? I wished she could forget everything about me and my kind. Compared to the vampire mind, human memory wasn't much more than a sieve. It _seemed _that time could heal all wounds for humans. But after listening to thousands of minds, I'd learned that some wounds didn't heal: time could only teach a person to conceal them better.

In a blur, the people I'd met in my long journey on the Earth invaded my memory. Their thoughts arrived in my mind and left, like sea waves crashing on the seashore. I'd listened to humans and vampires, old and young, good and evil. Bella was the only person I'd wanted to keep at my side. But, as the end of my existence was approaching, she wasn't going to be with me anymore, not even as a memory.

I recalled what Carlisle had told me about the Volturi. After a short journey, I was going to meet the most powerful coven of vampires. One of them would end my existence. _Maybe __it __will __be __the __mindreader_, I considered. Carlisle had told me that the Volturi leader, Aro, could hear thoughts like I could. I hadn't delved into the details of his gift; Carlisle had just added that Aro needed to touch you. So his talent seemed less powerful than mine, but I was aware that, in front of him, I would have to avoid thinking about Bella. A human who knew about our secrets wasn't going to survive, and I couldn't endanger her life because of my mistake.

I put the sheet back on her desk and noticed a book under the stack of notes. The title was new to me. What wasn't new, however, was the name on a piece of paper inserted in the volume: _For __Edward_. How long had the book been there? Was it among the ones that Bella had picked for me as a reading suggestion? Had she planned to lend it to me on a day that would never arrive?

Clutching the book to my chest, I went back to my house.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Friday, April 27, 2007

Florence, Italy

The train arrived to Florence after more than twenty minutes of delay. It didn't matter. I was early; the unexpected cloudy weather allowed me to travel in the daylight, without the need to hide until the nightfall. As I left the train, I let out a sigh of relief. The thoughts on the crowded wagon seemed more annoying than usual. Because of the delay, everyone had a reason to complain: lost job meetings, angry boyfriends or girlfriends kept waiting, and other trivialities. In the large train station I eyed a poster advertising that, on the following day, Robert Sawyer would conduct the debut concert of the _Maggio __Fiorentino_ Festival.

At human pace, the walk from the station to the theater where Mr. Sawyer was busy with the rehearsal would have taken no more than fifteen minutes. For once, I allowed myself the time to wander among the streets, basking in the colors, smells, and voices, until I stopped by the garden of the _Orti __Oricellari_. The spring embraced me with the scent of its flowers and a warm breeze. I wondered if Bella would return to the botanic garden where I had kissed her. It would also be in bloom. When the leaves were still dry, and the winter was covering nature with its cold veil, it had seemed impossible that the gardens would get their previous bloom back within a few weeks. Instead, the good weather had come once again. I wouldn't bother her there anymore – I would be swept away from her life for good, like the winter overpowered by the spring.

At the entrance of the theater, a man of the staff stopped me. In his mind, he guessed that, with my tailored suit and the confidence I showed, I couldn't be just a curious onlooker sneaking into the theater the day before the première.

"I'm Edward Cullen." I hadn't used Carlisle's surname in years. It felt like sand in my mouth. "Would you kindly ask Mr. Sawyer if he could see me for a moment, as soon as the rehearsal is over?"

The man didn't answer immediately, but retrieved a list. While he checked the names, I caught glimpses of his thoughts about me. He was uncertain about sending me away, since I wasn't on the list, or continuing to tolerate me, in case I was an unannounced VIP.

I anticipated his concerns. "My visit wasn't scheduled," I said, making my voice compelling as it could be. "But just tell him I am Dr. Carlisle Cullen's son. He'll see me."

It didn't take long before the man came back. "Mr. Sawyer is granting you an audience just after the end of the rehearsal," he informed me.

I spotted my target along a corridor, just outside the dressing rooms: a tall, slim man in his early forties, with short, curly black hair and an aquiline nose.

"Good evening, Mr. Sawyer," I greeted him politely.

For a moment, when his sharp, dark eyes met mine, he frowned in confusion. _Who's __this __guy? __Look, __he __must __be __Dr.__Cullen's __son. _"Oh...Mr. Cullen, isn't it?" he guessed. _The __doctor __told __me __he __was __an __adoptive __parent, __but __I__ imagined __he __was __speaking __about __children. __What __do __they __have __in __their __genes? __No, __it __can__'__t __be __the __genes_. _They __all __seem __handsome __as __actors, __anyway._

I nodded, smiling at him. As my lips parted, the scent of his blood grazed my senses. The monster awakened: it wasn't like smelling the scent of the humans I walked among every day. I was a predator sampling his prey. I swallowed venom, going back to focus on his thoughts. Deep gratitude filled them as he recalled what Carlisle had done to save his life.

The wrinkle between his eyebrows didn't fade completely when he smiled back at me. It must have been an expression trait. "I'm very pleased to meet you. Dr. Cullen told me that he had three sons and two daughters."

Mr Sawyer's thoughts told me more than his words: a night in the hospital, when he was losing any hope of surviving his illness, resurfaced in his mind. Carlisle had stayed beside his bed, listening to him as he rambled about the family he'd had and the one he wouldn't have the chance to start. Suddenly, he'd asked his doctor if he had any children. Carlisle had been taken aback by the question, but had answered truthfully.

_Three __sons_. Had I been mistaken while reading Mr. Sawyer's mind, or had Carlisle actually included me among his sons?

Mr. Sawyer's recollection ended, and his attention shifted back to our conversation. "Are you in Florence for work?" he surmised.

Admitting that I was there for work would have meant faking other explanations for a nonexistent job. We didn't have time to waste. "I'm in Italy for work, but I'm in Florence only by chance." Another lie. "I'm doing research abroad."

His gaze softened. "Your father told me he's very proud of his children."

I felt as if I'd just been slapped in the face – something I hadn't experienced in the last nine decades, but that I could recall very well from my human life. I managed a nod anyway; my lips even curled in a small smile. After all, hadn't Bella also acknowledged that I was a good liar?

"How is Dr. Cullen doing, by the way?" Mr. Sawyer asked. "I'm going to see him again as soon as the festival is over to discuss some medical exams I've had done recently." _Thank __God, __Dr. __Cullen __said __I __don't __have __to __worry. __Let's __hope __he's __right_. I almost smiled at his thoughts. I could free him of his medical concerns for good.

"He's fine," I lied again.

Sawyer's cell phone rang, interrupting us.

"The press conference is starting in an hour," I heard his assistant remind him. "A taxi will pick you up at the theater in a half hour."

"Very well. See you there," he dismissed her.

The time had come. I imagined the conference room full of journalists, their chatter increasing when Mr. Sawyer showed up, their inane questions. A deep breath sent another wave of his blood's scent into my nostrils.

"I need to leave now," he told me, "but would you attend the concert tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't miss it." He didn't consider at all that something might prevent the concert from taking place. "I've listened to all your records." He was very talented. Listening to his performances had been a pleasure indeed, and not just a part of my research about my intended prey.

"So, until tomorrow, Mr. Cullen. It's been a pleasure."

I quickly shook his hand. Little did he know that we would meet again sooner than he planned.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

The next chapter is due to be posted in two weeks, not only because I'm an evil cliffie lover, but because next Friday I'm going to update "A Good Liar." It began as a one-shot for the Canon tour and it will be a multichapter story. Would you give it a chance? Thank you!

**h t t p : / www. fanfiction. net /s/7817651/1/A_Good_Liar**

Summary: "The first time the Grim Reaper visited Edward, it was in the form of the Spanish influenza. The second time, Death had the lovely face of Bella Swan."

About this chapter of _An Italian Winter_, Edward doesn't know that, with a single touch, Aro can read all the thoughts and memories a person has ever had; so he thinks he can fool him.

"Who love too much, hate in the like extreme,/ And both the golden mean alike condemn." (Book XV, line 79). Homer's _Odyssey _is the not-very-short, but so-very-worth literary suggestion for this chapter.

Many thanks (and a visit from Edward) to** Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**.

On **h t t p : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot. com/** you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	24. Crossroad

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

Dear _ethelouise_ and _LBelle_, I couldn't get back to you, because your private messaging feature is disabled. Please drop me a line.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24 – Crossroad<strong>

* * *

><p>Friday, April 27, 2007<p>

Florence, Italy

"_Do __you __have __any __particular __ritual __before __a __concert?__" _the interviewer had asked.

"_Even __after __so __many __years,__ I __can't __sleep __the __night __before __a __première. __So __I __go __out __for __a __walk __alone. __Nature __has __always __been __my __main __inspiration. __Music __is __about __harmony, __and __nature __is __the __best __teacher __when __it __comes __to __harmony,__" _Robert Sawyer had answered.

Hidden in the darkness, I stayed a few feet away from my target. Leaning on the bridge rail, Robert Sawyer was staring down at the Arno River. The moon caressed the water with its milky light; only the quiet rolling of the river permeated the silence, since the sounds of the city center were too distant to be heard by humans. Like an embrace, we were surrounded by the Florentine hills.

I could make Sawyer believe that I was strolling on the same boulevard only by chance. Doesn't every death happen by chance, after all? Due to a strange coincidence, he would meet me in his nightly walk.

In his mind, he remembered when he was young and fought with his father about his passion for music, renouncing preparations for any other career. He recalled the moment when he'd finally caught a look of pride in his father's eyes, after one of his first important concerts. Later, Sawyer had become a famous and appreciated conductor, acclaimed in some of the most prestigious theaters of the world. But none of those professional successes could be compared to what he'd felt seeing his father's eyes shining with pride.

My conversation with Sawyer that afternoon came back to mind: _your __father __is __very __proud __of __his __children_. There had been a time when it would have meant everything to me. Carlisle had been my mentor, my best friend, the first one who had made me believe that I wasn't a mistake. _Three __sons_. As far as Carlisle knew, I could have been destroyed by now; I could have become a nomadic vampire and been reduced to ashes after a fight with another monster. _It __would __have __been __a__ blessing __for __Sawyer. __It __would __have __saved __his __life._

Despite my rebellion, my sire still counted me among his sons. What did it take for him to cancel his paternity?

Without Carlisle, neither I nor Robert Sawyer would have been walking along the river in Florence during this spring night. My prey took a deep breath, eyes closed. In his mind, he recalled a musical composition, but I didn't listen to it. I focused on his heartbeat, fantasizing about the thick, rich blood pulsing in his veins. His thoughts shifted toward a fantasy; he daydreamed about a child – the son he hadn't had – and imagined himself teaching music to his heir. _I __might __become __a __father, _he thought, regretting that he'd always put his career before starting a family. _It's __still __possible_, he considered, and the face of a woman flickered in his mind.

Only a few minutes. Even less. In mere seconds, I could prevent him from seeing the next dawn. Then, I would just sink into my own destruction.

A day in Carlisle's home resurfaced in my mind.

_Carlisle __put __away __the __book __he'd __been __reading __during __the __night,__ then got __ready __to __begin __his __shift __at __the __hospital.__ A phrase was __floating __in __his __mind.__ "__Whoever __saves __one __life, __saves __the __world __entire.__" __On __the __previous __evening, __when __he'd __arrived __at __home __from__ work, __he__ was __upset, __worried __for __a __patient. __His __thoughts __told __me __that, __at __a __certain __point __in __his __night __in __the __study, __he'd __prayed __for__ the patient__._

_In the morning, Carlisle was serene. I basked in the peace his mind provided to me._

I pushed away the memory. I couldn't but repulse Carlisle. After killing Sawyer, I would horrify him. Were the Volturi going to inform him immediately of my destruction? I imagined him and Esme getting the news, telling the other members of their family that I was gone for good. A pang of pain hit me. _Maybe __they'll __be __relieved_. The debt of so much human life taken, no matter how justified, weighed on me. How much had Alice seen and told them about my murders? _Ignorance __is __like __a __delicate __exotic __fruit; __touch __it __and __the __bloom __is __gone_, Oscar Wilde would have said. For every human life I had taken, I had dragged Carlisle and his family into my abyss, too.

Sawyer resumed his walk. I allowed him some distance from me. He wandered quietly among the trees, enjoying the crisp air of the night. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was far after midnight; it was time for him to go and catch some rest – although his nervousness for the upcoming concert and public debut as director of such an important festival wouldn't allow him to sleep tonight. I stayed, while he kept walking. I wasn't in a hurry – as if he could escape me! Images of other humans came back to my mind: I remembered how I used to follow them down the dark alleys where they had stalked their own prey. I had pursued only the evil, but did it have any importance, at this point?

_I __wonder __if __I __want __to __contribute __to __the __endless __history __of __the __hate, __blood __and __revenge_. The words of the book I'd taken in Bella's room haunted my thoughts.

Hate, blood, and revenge. The author of the book couldn't be aware that with three words she was summarizing what I'd done in the last three decades. And what about my human years? What had my life been but a moonless night?

_Bella_. She was like a meteor. She'd put everything on fire; she'd brought brilliancy and beauty to my black sky. _She's __run __away_, I told to myself. _I__'ve __lost __her __for __good_. And yet, even if just through the words of a book, she was still talking to me. I recalled the entire passage again:

"_I wonder if I want to contribute to the endless history of the hate, blood and revenge, but no longer I find reason for such. For me the life is...the present moment...the memories...the future. For me, the life itself became the most important."_

I considered the way Carlisle had spent his long existence. Was our condition worthy of being called _life_? I recalled the lives he'd saved, giving them back not only to his patients, but also to their families and their loved ones. Those people weren't the only ones who had to be grateful to him: there were also all the humans he'd chosen not to harm, fighting every day against his instincts.

I had to stop the course of my thoughts. A gust of wind made Sawyer pull up the lapel of his jacket and quicken his pace. I imagined how my teeth would break his skin, as if it were a loaf of bread – warm, soft, luscious. I wouldn't see Bella anymore, nor the vampire I had called father for years, or my mother and siblings. If I were to go through with it, I would become nobody's son.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Hidden in the woods around Florence, I looked down at the city, too far to detect any thought or a heartbeat. Just the electric lights signaled that, in the houses I was looking down at from my refuge, life continued. I wondered about sleepless people waiting for dawn, children enjoying their rest after a day of games, lovers who were cherishing each other. I didn't belong there. From my secluded spot on a hill, I could only stare at the life that was denied to me. I wasn't alone, though; the people I'd drained became my ghosts. Their words, their scents, and their thoughts reminded me that I belonged with them. My place was among the dead, but I was going to take my leave from them, too. Nothing more than ashes would remain of me; when I was destroyed, even the memory of my victims' death would fade.

I knelt down on the ground, the grass still wet with dew. The judge, the jury and the executioner knelt down in front of the condemned.

I spoke as if the men and women I'd killed could hear me.

I had played God. Now I wished that God existed and accepted my words.

"I had no right," I sobbed. "I wish I could atone for what I took."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Monday, April 30, 2007

Nothing had changed in my house since I'd gone to Florence. But the man who went back there wasn't the same who had left, just a few days ago. I put the filed paperwork and the keys on the table. Everything had been already disposed of since last week, and the real estate agent was due to arrive in a few minutes just to check that the house was clean and undamaged, ready for the new tenant. I'd doubled his fee, guessing that he wasn't too happy that I'd asked him to work on the day before a national holiday. It was also School Break, I recalled, _that _School Break. In some minds I'd caught disappointment because the weather hadn't been as good as the season had promised. For me, once again it'd been a blessing. I didn't have to wait for the sun to go down to put my plan into practice.

I allowed my memories to wander, until an evening in Bella's house resurfaced.

"_There's a planetarium near Florence. Have you ever been there?" _

_She shook her head._

_This just might work. "In the spring, there's a program to keep some museums open even in the evenings, and they offer special guided visits at night," I went on. "If you want to pick a day, we could go there together."_

"_Really? It would be great!" she exclaimed. "May I pick a day right now?"_

_I loved her enthusiasm. "Sure. Go ahead."_

"_Let's see... April thirtieth?" _

_I hid my disappointment. That was too late – I'd be gone by then. "Why that day? Is it your birthday?" I wondered if I could find a way to make her choose another date._

"_No. It's School Break, so I'll be on vacation."_

I looked toward her window. It was closed, and the shutter was pulled down. _Where __are __you?_ I wondered. I would have given all the music I'd composed just to get the opportunity to listen to her heartbeat once more. _Be __safe, __my __love_, I silently wished her. _Be __safe __and __be __happy._

I retrieved a small envelope. It was my farewell to her, and the only belonging I was going to take with me after leaving the house. For the umpteenth time, I pondered sending it to her. I recalled what I'd written in the accompanying letter and struggled to imagine her face while reading it. I'd penned those words hoping that she could understand, even if she would never forgive me. Fear mingled with hope; I didn't want to hurt her further. I couldn't take that risk.

I shut the door behind me. A last glance at Bella's apartment building told me that she hadn't come back home. I drove slower than usual. Mile after mile, Volterra was looming.

Memories of Isabella danced in my mind. I eyed the package for her, which I'd put on the passenger's seat. _You __must __decide_, the envelope seemed to remind me. _You're __running __out __of __time_.

I considered if there was any way to delay the delivery. _How__ many __years __would __be __enough? _I grimaced. I couldn't imagine an older Bella getting a remnant from a sunken past – a past she'd wanted to forget, for sure. What would pass over her face? Curiosity? Confusion? And then? What would happen when she'd read my words and figured out who the sender was? Maybe by then there would be nothing but indifference on her face.

I scoffed, glancing at the road sign at the junction. On the same signpost, I was reminded that I had to turn right to get to Volterra, or I could just go on to Florence. The day was fading into twilight, and the guided tour at the Planetarium was due to begin soon. _It __was __never __meant __to __be_, I lied to myself. There had been a fleeting moment when I'd allowed myself to hope that Bella's love would lighten my black sky. _Stars __are __holes __in __the __sky __from __which__ the __light __of __the __infinite __shines, _it had been said. A young mortal had shown an immortal being like me what the infinite was. But that belonged to a distant past, before my darkness threatened to trap her, my North star...

The junction was approaching. I began to turn right.

I slammed on the brakes. _Only __a __last __moment_, I chanted to myself. _She __won't __be __there;__ I __won't __hurt __anyone. __Only __a __last __farewell_.

x-x-x-x-x-x

By the time I arrived at the Planetarium, some visitors were already exiting in little chattering groups. The guided tour was over, and before the closing there was a half-hour left to visit the halls freely. An image of the Big Dipper caught my attention. I entered the room and looked at the panels. There was a show about the way constellations had been mentioned in literature and music or represented in art. My eyes followed the captions under the pictures, but my mind went back to Bella's home.

"_You have stars in your home," I murmured. _

_We both looked up. "I didn't know I lived so close to the Big Dipper." She tilted her head in confusion at my words. "Ursa Major," I explained. "In America we call it the Big Dipper."_

"_Oh, I see. Here it's called the Orsa Maggiore – the Big She-Bear." _

I flipped through the names of literary and artistic works and recognized some of the books I'd seen in Bella's apartment. One of them had been used in her thesis, too. I was sure she would have liked the exhibition.

When I whirled around toward the exit, I found myself gazing into a pair of deep-brown eyes, filled with shock. I froze. There was no one else in the room.

"Edward," Bella murmured.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Big question. Did Edward kill Robert Sawyer?

The next chapter is due to be posted in two weeks. "A Good Liar" is due to be updated next Friday; if you aren't reading it, would you give it a chance? (** : / / www. fanfiction s/7817651/1/A_Good_Liar**)

"_Whoever __saves __one __life, __saves __the __world __entire,__" _is a Talmudic quotation.

"_Ignorance __is __like __a __delicate __exotic __fruit; __touch __it __and __the __bloom __is __gone,__" _is a line from Oscar Wilde's _The __Importance __of __Being __Earnest_.

"_Stars __are __holes __in __the __sky __from __which __the __light __of __the __infinite __shines,__" _is a quote by Confucius.

The book Edward took in Bella's room is _The__ House __of __the __Spirits_, by Isabel Allende. The passage "_I __wonder __if __I__ want __to __contribute __to __the __endless __history __of __the __hate, __blood __and __revenge..._" is quoted from the movie, though.

Many thanks (and the best choice at a crossroad) to** Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**.

On** : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot . com **you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	25. Crest

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 25 – Crest<strong>

* * *

><p>Monday, April 30, 2007<p>

Florence, Italy

_When I whirled around toward the exit, I found myself gazing into a pair of deep-brown eyes, filled with shock. I froze. There was no one else in the room. _

"_Edward," Bella murmured._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Bella's heartbeat was frantic. Listening to it was like hearing the echo of the fear I'd made her feel the last time we'd been together. I took a step back and raised my hands, signaling that I meant no harm.

"Isabella," I called to her softly. "I'm leaving."

She stared at me, but didn't speak.

"I didn't want to bother you," I apologized. "I wasn't expecting you to come." I moved toward the exit behind her.

"Please stop!" she blurted.

I glanced at her over my shoulder. She was still tense, but her gaze softened. "Can we talk?" she asked, her voice unsure.

A last group of visitors breezed along the corridor. In silence, Bella and I looked at each other until they exited.

"Do you want to go? My car is just out there," I offered, but regretted my words. What if she was with someone else? Before I could tell her I'd changed my mind, she nodded.

In the warm spring night, our slow steps resonated on the gravel as we walked at arm's length through the garden surrounding the Planetarium. Bella kept her head slightly bowed, and the mass of her loosened hair, like a curtain around her face and on her shoulders, prevented me from reading her expression. Her heartbeat told me that she wasn't at peace, though. I recalled how she had felt in my arms and the soft texture of her fine skin. Now, instead, it was like we were separated by a glass wall.

I hoped that some small talk could ease the awkwardness that was trapping us. "How did you get here?"

"By taxi," she answered tersely. "I was spending the day in Florence, and coming here was a last minute decision." She turned toward me, and finally her eyes met mine. "You remembered the day."

"I did." Too many things I would have liked to tell her passed through my mind. "But I would have never imagined...hoped...that you'd come."

She attempted a laugh, but it came out weak. "Nor would I."

"Do you want me to take you home?"

She accepted, and we walked to the car. The envelope I'd prepared for her stood out on the passenger's seat. I opened the car door for her and gave her the package.

"I've something for you," I told her.

She tensed and went on the defensive. "How is it possible? You said you weren't expecting that I would come."

"I wasn't, in fact. I was going to send it to you."

Bella frowned. "Couldn't you have just knocked on my door?"

"I won't be your neighbor anymore. I've returned my house keys this afternoon."

Her face fell. "We wouldn't have met again."

It wasn't a question, but nevertheless I felt I had to answer. "No," I sighed.

Bella gaped, as if she were going to say something, but didn't break the silence. Her fingers fidgeted with the envelope.

"Perhaps it's better if you open it at home."

She took a breath. "Let's go, then."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When I parked the car under the windows of her apartment, I imagined what a shipwrecked person would have felt going back home after thinking he wouldn't see it again.

"Won't you come in?" she invited me.

I glanced over at her. Her gentle gaze tugged at my heart; I wasn't anything but a wreck, but she'd never made feel that way. "Okay."

It was very late, though, and I could see that the long evening was weighing on her. As we entered her home, Bella seemed uneasy. She hesitated in the foyer before deciding where to go, and then she headed toward the kitchen.

"I need a cup of coffee." Her voice was low, and she avoided meeting my gaze. "I guess that offering you something to drink or eat wouldn't be the best choice."

"I'll keep you company, if you want," I offered, as softly as I could.

She kept staring at the floor. "I feel stupid," she blurted. "I'm recalling how many times you told me that you were on a special diet. I'd noticed how fast you moved, or the strength with which you broke the knife that fell on me. The hints were all in front of me, but I had no idea."

"I thought that...technically..." The words remained locked in my mouth.

"Technically?"

"I was trying to give you as much truth as possible." Considering how things had turned out, it sounded like an insult. I looked at her, expecting that she would yell at my inane words. She didn't. "I didn't want to lie to you," I assured her.

"It seems you walked on a fine line between truth and lies. What was it for you? A challenge, a game?" Sadness veiled her voice.

_It __could __be __a __good __distraction_. That was the way everything with Bella had started, for me. I grimaced, considering how I would wound her once again with such a revelation, and I wondered if I could avoid it right then. "How much truth can you take?"

"How much are you willing to share?"

About this, I hadn't any doubts. "Everything." I needed her to understand that I meant it. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"It's a good start." I noticed the slight softening in her tone. She switched her coffee machine on, stifling a yawn.

"You seem tired. Shouldn't you go to sleep?"

Lamely, she shook her head. "I just need some caffeine to stay awake longer."

Bella sipped her drink quickly, standing against the kitchen counter. Then she motioned toward the living room and the couch. "What about you? Are you tired?"

I let out an embarrassed chuckle. "I don't get tired."

She looked at me in disbelief. "Ever?"

"Ever," I confirmed. One step at a time. "I don't sleep."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't comment. She opened the envelope I'd given her and took out the locket it contained.

The leather cuff bracelet was old-looking, but the fine metal crest on it was still shining, even after so many years. In the elaborate pattern of the coat of arms, three leaves of shamrock, a lion, and a hand stood out.

"This is the Cullen Crest," I began to explain. "I used to wear it on my right wrist, but I haven't worn it since I decided to turn my back on my adoptive father and his family. I'm afraid it represents all the ways I betrayed them."

"You said they don't hurt humans," she recalled.

"They don't." Tracing the figures on the crest, I pointed to the leaves. "See the shamrock? It represents perpetuity. Vampires don't die naturally and don't age. But I don't believe it's a reference only to their immortality. Perpetuity doesn't depend on how long our lives last, but on the meaning we give them. For decades, living with the Cullens and sharing their values, I believed that there was a way for me, for us, to not be damned."

The tempo of her heartbeat increased. "What made you change your mind?"

The word had never felt more harsh on my tongue. "Revenge." I grimaced, recalling the way my hands had snapped necks, and my teeth had sliced flesh. My voice was strained, but I went on. "I knew that, choosing to become a killer, I would hurt Carlisle. When he became a vampire and understood what he had to do to survive, he tried to starve himself. Eventually, he discovered he could live off animal blood and went on. He would never harm a human, not even to save himself." It was no wonder that he'd been a hero to me. That was, until he had betrayed me.

"I had put him on a pedestal, but when he made the wrong decision, I was the one who got hurt. He developed a strong control over his..." I hesitated. I was going to say _bloodlust_, but I didn't want to talk so openly about my nature with Bella, fearing that I would scare her further. "...instincts. But I guess he believed that I could never achieve the same control. He didn't trust me and made a decision in my place. He took away my choices."

Bella leaned toward me. "A decision that couldn't be undone?" she mused.

"Exactly. What I told you about my past and the way I was abandoned as a child wasn't a lie."

She cringed. "I shouldn't have ever implied..."

I shushed her softly. "I gave you enough reasons to doubt me," I admitted. "I lost my human life in a hospital bed, due to a disease. Before that, I'd been an orphan and a tramp. I moved from one orphanage to another and ended up on the streets, cursing the life I was living a thousand times. I brought an open question with me from my human past into this existence: Who were the people who had damned me to be nothing but a piece of junk? Carlisle found out the answer. He found out who my parents were, but he kept the truth from me, waiting until they were both dead."

"What were you going to do to them?" she asked.

I snapped up my head at her words. It was the very same question Carlisle had asked me the day I had left him and his family.

"Half a century ago, I would have said that I wanted only to confront them. At this point, Bella, I can only say I don't know. I didn't know the monster inside me until I saw him in action. There was a lion in me, and when he found the way to come out, he did so."

A lion was on the Cullen Crest, too. I drew her attention to it. "The lion stands for courage, but I can't consider myself courageous. My victims couldn't defend themselves. He's also a symbol of ferocity, and indeed I'd been ferocious."

Bella winced but didn't tell me to stop. She couldn't know how many victims weighed on my conscience, nor for how long I'd been a relentless killer. If I'd told her that I'd chosen to pass over the innocent and pursue only the evil, would it have mattered? No. Not even I believed anymore that anything could justify what I'd done.

There was a last symbol on the crest. "The hand represents faith and sincerity," I explained. "I lost any faith in myself and had no hope left. I thought that if I killed someone Carlisle cared for, an innocent, only because he was connected to him..." I couldn't go on. "That was the reason for my stay in Italy," I concluded. "My target was here." A pang of pain surged through me. "That's it. I've been a liar for such a long time, but with you I had at least the desire to be sincere."

Bella's hands trembled in her lap. "I don't know what to say, Edward." Her voice wavered and became more acute. "I tried to find a rational explanation for what you told me. I thought you were crazy or I was. I've put every effort into forgetting you – but I can't." She took a quick breath, as if to steady her voice. "It's like my heart is gone – like I'm hollow. Like I've left everything that was inside me with you."

I knew the feeling too well, but I wouldn't ever want her to experience the same torture because of me.

"I haven't spent a single day without thinking about coming to your door, and try to...I don't know what we could ever try!" she went on. "I told myself that you were the same Edward – my friend, the man I..." Her cheeks became crimson. "The man I fell in love with."

For a moment, her words made everything go still around us. "But then, the thought that you weren't going to stop, that maybe, while I was thinking about you, you were taking another human life–"

"I didn't!" I broke out.

In a rush, I closed the distance between us and took her in my arms. She shuddered, but I didn't let her go. Not even the first of her tears reached her cheek before I wiped it away. "I didn't!" I repeated with force.

Bella searched for my face, and I locked my dry eyes with hers, which were brimming with hot tears. I leaned my forehead against hers, her mind separated from me only by a thin layer of flesh, yet still impenetrable.

"You saved me," I confessed. "I got so close to my prey, to the one I thought would give a meaning to my revenge, but then...I couldn't." Once again, I recalled the moment I had run away from Robert Sawyer. "Even if I never saw you again, I knew that if I pursued my revenge, if I killed again, I wouldn't be worthy of even recalling our time together. The thought was unbearable."

She took my face in her hands and brushed my cheekbones, as if she were wiping the tears I couldn't shed. I saw the relief flood her face. Her arms circled my waist, and she drew me toward her. She'd held me before, but that was when she hadn't been aware of my true nature.

"I swear, Isabella," I went on. "I won't take a human life again."

But the image of her, shocked as I revealed to her what I was, and the memory of her pain flashed in my mind. Only my destruction could be enough to prevent me from hurting anyone.

"I know what to do to ensure it."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Notes<strong>

Stubbornward that much? So it seems...**  
><strong>

The next chapter is due to be posted in two weeks. "A Good Liar" is due to be updated next Friday (**www. fanfiction s/7817651/1/A_Good_Liar**).

Many thanks (and the Cullen Crest) to** Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**.

"You who hear the sound, […]/ of those sighs on which I fed my heart, […] I hope to find pity, and forgiveness,/ for all the modes in which I talk and weep,/ between vain hope and vain sadness,/ in those who understand love through its trials." Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch), _Voi__ C__h'ascoltate __in__ R__ime__ S__parse..._, from the _Canzoniere_.

On** : / / myreadinglounge. blogspot . com **you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	26. Wreck

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

_An Italian Winter_ has been reviewed on Bookish Temptations (h.t.t.p.:././ bookish temptations. ...c.o.m.); the title of the article is _FanFic Friday: Half Year Milestone_ (June 29, 2012), and Elena's review is amazing! Thank you!

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

For Petra: I couldn't reply to your review because I couldn't find the right link to your profile. Please drop me a line, thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 26 – Wreck<strong>

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><p>Sunday, April 29, 2007<p>

_She took my face in her hands and brushed my cheekbones, as if she were wiping the tears I couldn't shed. I saw the relief flood her face. Her arms circled my waist, and she drew me toward her. She'd held me before, but that was when she hadn't been aware of my true nature. _

"_I swear, Isabella," I went on. "I won't take a human life again." _

_But the image of her, shocked as I revealed to her what I was, and the memory of her pain flashed in my mind. Only my destruction could be enough to prevent me from hurting anyone. _

"_I know what to do to ensure it."_

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Bella probably hadn't heard me. She lolled against my chest and closed her eyes. I rocked us until her breathing became more regular. She was exhausted, and I was sure that, despite the caffeine, she would be asleep soon. I scooped her gently in my arms and took her to her bedroom. She curled up under the blanket.

"Don't go away," she whispered, her voice sleepy.

"I won't. I'll be here in the morning when you wake up."

But she didn't rest long. Less than an hour later, she unexpectedly awakened with a jolt. Her muscles tensed, and she gasped, springing up to a sitting position.

I tried to keep my voice calm, despite my concern. "What's wrong?"

Startled, Bella looked around, her eyes still unused to the darkness.

I'd been unable to leave her room, but I'd tried to keep some distance from her. I left the chair where I'd been sitting and knelt beside her bed.

"It's me," I reassured her. "Do you want me to switch the lamp on?"

"No." She patted her hand on the bed, motioning for me to sit with her. "It was just a bad dream."

"I would have awakened you if I'd known you were having a nightmare."

"As if you could have known," she scoffed.

"Actually, I might," I confessed. Once again, I'd revealed too much. But I didn't regret it, since I wanted all my walls to fall down with her.

Bella looked at me with curiosity. "What are you saying? Can you take a peek at people's dreams? Are you a mindreader, perhaps?"

"With a single exception, yes, I am."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Why am I afraid that you aren't joking?"

I reached out my hand toward her and let my fingertips brush her lips. "_Afraid_ is a word that should never come from your mouth." I locked my eyes with hers. "I can hear people's thoughts, but you're my single exception. Your mind is closed to me."

Her eyes widened. "Can you tell me more?"

At least she wasn't screaming. Not yet. I hoped it was a good sign and went on. "I haven't met many of my...kind: only my maker, the coven I belonged to, and a few others. But, as far as I know, there are gifted vampires. Some capabilities that are present when we're human are enhanced when we become what we are. So, yes, I can read minds." I tried to ease the tension. "Is it too much to handle, especially after an abrupt awakening?"

Bella's gaze softened. "No. I've had some time to mull over what you revealed to me. Now I believe you. But even more than this, I want to know you."

"The nightmare...was it about Mike?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I went home on Easter break. I talked with Mike's parents and told them what happened at school."

I'd supposed that she'd joined Angela's friends, as they were planning to do. When, to my shame, I'd eavesdropped Bella's phone calls, she'd never spoken about her intention to visit her family.

I roamed her face with my gaze. Emotion was still evident every time she recalled her student, but I saw a new serenity, too.

"You were there with me," she muttered.

"How so?" How could she consider even thinking about me, after what I'd done?

"You told me that your heart would be with me while I talked with Mike's parents. You're the one who made me believe that I could be forgiven, that the mistakes we make don't have to ruin the rest of our lives."

I was proud of her, and I wanted to tell her that I considered her strong and brave. But I only tightened my embrace.

"Actually, the bad dreams were about you," Bella told me quietly. "You were gone, and I..." With a shrug, she interrupted her account, leaving me eager to know more. She rubbed at her eyes. "It doesn't matter. The dreams are over, and you're here."

I distanced myself from her touch. "I should only be in your nightmares."

"I count on you being in my nightmares."

I locked eyes with her, confused.

"I count on you holding and comforting me after my nightmares, as you've already done," she explained. She rested her head on my chest, speaking close to my heart. "I want to dream of you and wake up in your arms again. I felt safe with you, Edward."

_I __felt._ I cringed as she used the past tense, but how could I blame her? "What I've done speaks against me, but I've always wanted you to be safe."

I cradled Bella's face in my hands. _I __will __never __hurt __you_, I wanted to vow. But I was aware that I was still a danger. Thinking otherwise would have been a delusion, a daydream I wasn't worthy of. Even if I wasn't going to harm a human again, I still had to pay for all the lives I'd taken. There wasn't any right way for me to atone for what I'd done. "Go back to sleep," I whispered to her, holding her as she surrendered to sleep.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As I looked out the window at my former house, Bella woke up.

"Good morning," she said softly.

I turned toward her, basking in her smile.

She saw me looking toward my house. "I miss your music," she murmured, as a second thought.

I averted my eyes from her. "I haven't played since...you know, since you left. It's like my hands can't find their way on the piano anymore."

"They will," she reassured me. "One step at a time."

"I used to play for my adoptive mother," I recalled. "I wrote a song to celebrate the love between her and Carlisle."

"Do you miss them?"

I shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if Carlisle actually acted in my best interest. He told me he was trying to protect not only my parents, but me, too. He didn't want me to become a monster. But it's too late."

"Where were you going when you left the house?" she asked.

I tensed. "Where I deserve."

"What do you mean?"

"I promised I wouldn't kill anymore, and I still have to pay for what I've taken."

She moved closer to me. "You said we weren't going to meet again..." Her words came out slowly, as if she were suspecting what my intentions were.

I nodded. "I don't have anything to give back to the people I hurt. The least I can do is to ensure I won't go on with my existence having ended theirs."

Bella recoiled. "No!" Her hands cupped my cheeks, and she locked her eyes with mine. "No!" I could feel she was trembling, but she found the strength to go on. "I don't know the entirety of what you've done. I'm not even sure that I could bear to know everything about what your life has been like so far. But I've seen your sorrow. When you talked to me about forgiveness, when you encouraged me to forgive myself in the first place and go back home, there wasn't the same sorrow in your eyes. There was _hope_."

"Hope isn't something I deserve."

"Why not? You've known pain all your life long. I beg you, Edward, choose the light over the darkness."

"Tell that to the people I killed."

"You know that I've already gone through this."

The memory of what she'd suffered because of the death of her student surged through me.

"Think about the people who care for you," Bella pleaded. "Don't give up. I beg you, don't make them grieve for you forever."

My will threatened to crumble into dust. I envisioned myself in front of the Cullens, pleading for forgiveness. When I'd knelt down in the woods around Florence, recalling the people I'd hurt, I'd also remembered my adoptive family. But the thought had made me realize how unworthy I was to show up on their threshold.

Now, for the first time, I considered the possibility of returning to my family. The words of the parable came back to mind, more significant than they'd ever been: _Father, __I __have __sinned __against __heaven __and __against __you. __I __am __no __longer __worthy __to __be __called __your __son_.

"You have to move on," I whispered to Bella. It was the only thing I hoped – that she would go on with her life, that my darkness hadn't extinguished her light for good.

Her gaze became fierce. "I'm still scared, and I can't promise that, sooner or later, this won't be too much for me. But I want to try. Tell me that you don't want me, that you don't miss what we shared, and I'll step aside."

I couldn't even consider telling her such a blasphemy. "It would be a lie."

"So don't surrender! At first, after what happened at your house, I wanted to just run away from everything. I tried to bury every moment we'd spent together – your words, my feelings. I was scared to discover that it'd all been a lie."

I winced but remained silent and let her continue.

"In every place I was, in everything I did, something reminded me of you. It was a perpetual fight. I ended up thinking of you from the moment I took the bus and went to work until the time I fell asleep, replaying your music in my memory. But then I stopped pushing the memories away. I realized that I was in pain not because of what we'd shared, but because I was afraid that we wouldn't meet again."

"You should be relieved, instead." Every word stung on my lips, but I had to go on. "Like my family will be relieved once I'm gone for good."

"I know you fear it even more than death, but going back to your family is exactly what you must do."

I froze. The bitterness of the pain I'd caused to the Cullens for years, renouncing their values, flooded over me. "For what? To give them more sorrow?"

"No. To ask for their forgiveness, and to tell them that you forgive your father for the choice he made."

The words escaped my mouth before I could think better of them. "I wish I could ask for your forgiveness."

"Edward." Bella's voice caressed my name. She'd never addressed me with such tenderness. "I forgive you."

"There's no way for me to be worthy of it."

She took my hands in hers. I looked down at our intertwined fingers. "Forgiveness is not something you earn. It's something you receive, and it can be accepted or refused." Her touch on my skin was like a spring breeze, fighting against the winter that kept nature frozen. "Stay. Stay with me."

I felt like I was on the brink of a precipice, torn apart by different forces. But Bella's pull was the strongest.

I surrendered.

"As long as you want, I'll stay."

Bella closed her eyes and embraced me, enveloping my coldness in warm softness. She murmured a _thank __you_, too low to be heard by human ears. Seeing the relief on her face – _relief_ just because I had implied that I wouldn't have my life ended – left me staring at her in awe. I felt as if I were coming to life again – to a life where I was welcomed. With her, a net of care and affection would prevent me falling into the darkness again. I closed my arms around the human girl who had fought the darkness, only because of me, and had triumphed over it.

She smiled, and for a moment it was as if we still were under a blanket of stars. I recalled the planetarium, the package I'd given her, and the letter she hadn't read yet.

"I wrote you a letter," I told her.

I retrieved the envelope I'd given her and took out the letter she hadn't noticed. I stood in front of her as her eyes began to scan my written words. I could surmise that she was still reading the part where I'd explained what the crest meant. When she gaped and brought a hand to her mouth, I knew she'd arrived to the verses by Shakespeare I'd quoted, and she'd recognized them.

_Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,_

_Having some business, do entreat her eyes_

_To twinkle in their spheres till they return._

"Venice." Her lips trembled as she uttered the name of the city where, hidden behind a mask, I'd given her the quote for the first time. A tear rolled down her cheek and fell on the paper.

Before she could continue, I knelt in front of her and told her the full story. "I can't go out under the sun in public," I explained. I considered the myths she'd probably heard about vampires, and tried to correct them. "It doesn't hurt me, but it would show that I'm not...human. So I had to stay hidden. I couldn't tell you the truth – I couldn't elicit questions that I wasn't prepared to answer then."

"The mask, the thief you stopped, the way I treated you when I discovered that you'd lied to me," she recalled. "You went through all this just to come with me to Venice?"

"I'd go through so much more to stay with you." I opened my arms to her, offering her an embrace which she didn't refuse. "I love you. For years, the only thing I'd felt was hate and despair." The memory made me cringe. "Then I met you." I brushed her hair away from her face. "I love you," I told her again. The words were sweet on my lips; I could have repeated them to her all the day long. "I've waited so long to be able to say it."

The long years of my existence paraded through my mind. I recalled the delusions, the angry thoughts, the times I had to run away from people in love. I'd ended up giving up my dreams. The memory of my last victim haunted me like a ghost: the rough sex we'd shared when we didn't have anything to lose anymore, images of her corpse as I had to dispose of it, the desperation I'd felt. I closed my eyes, even if it wouldn't make the horror fade, and took an unnecessary breath. A soft touch on my face made me look at Bella again.

"Isabella." I pronounced her full name carefully–the name of the person who had become the most important to me. The most important ever. "I've never felt this way before. I've seen couples falling in love – I've witnessed the strength of the bond that keeps my adoptive parents and siblings together. But, before you, I'd never experienced this kind of love."

Bella continued to caress my jaw and neck. Her delicate touch sent waves of pleasure though my stony body. I wanted to apologize in advance for the sorrow I would cause by telling her the story of my existence—what I'd done with the never ending time I'd been given.

"I realize there are places in our memories where we aren't ready to go yet," she told me.

The tenderness I could feel in her voice made me wonder if there was also a paradise for vampires, a place where we could find the peace we yearned for. For me, it was being welcomed by her.

"I'll want you forever. Every single day of forever," I promised. "My love for you will never fade."

Tears shone in her eyes, but weren't shed. "I love you, too." Her words ended on my mouth, and our parted lips molded to each other. Carefully, minding my cold touch, my hands learned to cherish her again. I'd been ready to give up everything, even my life. Being in Bella's arms, feeling the way her body was welcoming me, was my resurrection. Everything felt stronger, because it was new.

She slid down until she was below me. I hovered over her, letting a light rain of kisses fall on her face.

"I'm yours," she murmured. Her fingertips sent shivers though me as they glided over my back, reaching my waist; she lifted the hem of my shirt, exposing my skin. I stood up and took my clothes off. Her gaze followed my hands. I reached her top and removed her shirt, asking her consent with my eyes. She swallowed hard, giving me a nod. I cradled her face in my hands, going again through her ruffled strands, splaying her hair like a halo on the pillow. My lips brushed her forehead.

"_Ti __amo_," I told Bella in her language.

A bright smile appeared on her lips; she exposed the column of her throat and let me kiss the side of her neck. With reverence, I listened to the life rushing in her veins with each of her heartbeats. My nose skimmed across her collarbone, until I came to rest with my cheek pressed against her chest.

Her peaks hardened as I cupped her breasts. She pressed her hips against mine; it seemed that our bodies had melted together. A moan escaped her as I went beyond the threshold, entering her. My name was the sweetest whisper on her lips. She chanted it until it became a scream, a cry of longing, the only call that had the power to save me from my destruction.

Bella held me close to her chest after our mutual release, clinging to me with her arms and legs, unwilling to let me go. Her eyes were still brimming with tears.

"Talk to me, love," I whispered to her.

"Don't leave," she mumbled. Tears began to streams down her face. "I can't bear the thought..." I struggled to understand her words through her sobs "...of being separated from you...ever." She trembled in my arms. "Ever."

I held her as tightly as I dared, letting her cry freely, kissing her head, trying to shush her. Abruptly, a stab of pain shook me. Her tears, her heartbeat, her warmth. Everything screamed to me that she was human, and I wasn't. The awareness of her fragility – of her mortality – mocked me: _you __can __promise __her __that __you __won't __go. __But__ one day __she __will._

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<em><br>_**

* * *

><p><strong>Notes<strong>

The next chapter is the last one and is due to be posted in two weeks. "A Good Liar" is due to be updated next Friday (**w.w.w...fanfiction...n.e.t/s/7817651/1/A_Good_Liar**).

"And even as he, who, with distressful breath,/ Forth issued from the sea upon the shore,/ Turns to the water perilous and gazes;/ So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward,/ Turn itself back to re-behold the pass/ Which never yet a living person left." Dante Alighieri, _Inferno_, I, 22-27.

Many thanks to Wreckward's saviors: **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**. Thanks also to Songster!

On** h.t.t.p.: / / myreadinglounge. blogspot . com **you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


	27. Flight

**RAUM**

_**An Italian Winter**_

Disclaimer: _Twilight _belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended at any point.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 27 – Flight<strong>

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><p>Monday, June 11, 2007<p>

With a clatter of dishes and cups, I finished preparing Bella's breakfast. She arrived in the kitchen earlier than I was expecting.

"Hey there." My words mingled with a teasing kiss. She went on her tiptoes to reach my lips as I playfully distanced myself from her. "It's your first day free from school. Didn't you want to sleep in?"

"I'll take a nap later, maybe, or I can sleep on the plane."

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Will you?"

"No," she scoffed. "I guess I'll have enough reasons to stay awake–my first intercontinental flight, meeting your family..."

"Are you still sure you want to?"

"I am," she rushed to confirm.

"Do you want any help to finish packing?"

Bella chuckled. "Believe it or not, I've finished."

I'd teased her in the past days about the stuff she'd collected in her apartment in a few months. _Our __home_. The time we'd spent there together was going to end in the evening, when we would leave for the United States. Bits from what we'd shared in the last weeks began to play in my memory.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Bella rested on my bare chest, her body still flushed from our lovemaking. She leaned her hand on my silent heart, drawing lazy circles over it._

"_How do you become a vampire?"_

_Her __question __wasn't __unexpected. __Regardless, __I __felt __the __need __to __collect __my __thoughts. __I'd __already __told __her __what __had __happened __when __Carlisle __had__ found __me __in __a __hospital __in __Chicago, __where __I__ was __dying __of __the __Spanish __influenza. __I __knew __what __she__ was _really_ asking__._

"_Our teeth are coated with venom. If it spreads in a human body, through the bloodstream, the change is irreversible. The process is excruciating and long." I tensed at the memory. "Three days of indescribable pain."_

_She hugged me. "I'm sorry, Edward. Am I making you uncomfortable?"_

"_It's okay."_

_She resumed caressing my chest. For a while, our breathing was the only sound in the room. "Have you ever created a vampire?"_

_Her words hit me like I'd been whiplashed._

_My breath caught in my throat. "No." Unwanted – unbidden – the image of Bella with a marble body and red eyes took shape into my mind. _

x-x-x-x-x-x

Bella's voice snapped me out of my memories. "Can you come and help me?"

I reached her in Jake's former room and lifted the box where she'd gathered a few things he'd left behind. "How is Jake doing?" I asked, trying to be polite.

"Wonderfully." A bright smile appeared on her face every time she talked about her friend; I suppressed the pang of unnecessary jealousy her reaction elicited in me. "I'm betting he'll get married within the year," she went on.

I'd seen enough about humans to surmise that she was right.

The news had arrived out of the blue, during a quiet evening. Bella had screamed her surprise when Jake called her to announce that he'd fallen in love.

"Let me guess," she had joked. "You've found a she-wolf!"

She hadn't been far from the truth. It had turned out that Jake, intrigued by the name of the hotel, had befriended the owner of the local inn, The Twin Wolves. It'd been named after one of the most representative animals of the National Park, and it'd opened twenty-three years ago, the same year the owners had become the proud parents of twins. One of them, Lia, was Jake's girlfriend.

Bella's enthusiasm amused me. "You bet?"

"Of course."

I let my question linger between us, as if it was a casual thought. "Would you bet that you'll get married too, sooner or later?"

The smile faded from her face, replaced by a crimson blush. Then she let out a small laugh. "You think I'll ever find someone who'd keep me around so long?"

I moved closer to her and circled her waist with my arms. "You don't have to look far away."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_I lifted my eyes from the book I was reading and met Bella's gaze. She was staring at me in disbelief. "What?" I asked._

"_I've never watched you read. Your speed is kind of shocking."_

_I laughed. "I didn't know I had an audience. Otherwise, I would have read faster. Do you want me to quote the chapters I've already checked and committed to memory?"_

"_Show-off," she snorted._

_I stretched out my arms. "Come here."_

_She sat in my lap and eyed the book I'd been reading. "Petrarch's poems. Are you enjoying them?"_

"_Very much."_

_She took the volume from my hands and began to read. "Che debb'io far? Che mi consigli, Amore?"_

_I closed my eyes, listening to Bella as she read in her native language. Her voice was like sweet music, but the contents of the poem provoked a deep pain in me. I mentally translated them while she continued to recite. "What must I do?" the poet asked. "What do you counsel, Love? The time has truly come to die, and I have lingered longer than I wish. My lady is dead, and my heart with her."_

_I put a finger against her mouth. "Please, stop," I pleaded._

_Bella frowned, but it didn't take her long to understand what was happening. Her arms circled my neck, her cheek pressed against mine. "Would you tell me what you're thinking?" she whispered close to my ear. _

"_I'm scared," I confessed. "I thought I would be able to stay with you and leave you human. But every day we get to stay together is another step toward the last one we'll have." I tightened my embrace around her. If I'd been human, my heart would have been slamming against my ribcage at the thought that one day death would swallow her._

"_There's another option," she reminded me._

_I distanced myself from her. "No." The words erupted from my mouth, without filter. "It would be beyond selfish," I seethed, angry at myself. "You deserve better than a monster who would take your life to keep you with him forever."_

_Bella searched for my eyes and held my gaze. "And if I gave you my life? If it were my choice? Would you want it, then?"_

"_I want it more than I should." I took her hands in mine, and I could feel the accelerated pulse in her wrists. "Have you ever considered how much you would give up?"_

_The sadness that veiled her eyes spoke more than any answer she could give me."Yes," she murmured. "But you would be worth it."_

_I shook my head at her words, fighting against the desire to give in and accept her gift. "I don't want to take anything away from you."_

"_Then don't take away my options – our options."_

_Her words made me cringe. I recalled what I'd felt when my choices had been taken from me. I didn't want to make the same mistake with Bella, even if I knew how wrong damning her to my same condition would be. I looked at her, taking her features in once again, steadying myself for what I wanted to promise. _

"_It is, and it will always be, your choice," I vowed._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Already in our plane seats, I lightly squeezed Bella's hand as the speaker announced to get ready for the take-off.

"It will be okay," I told her for the umpteenth time.

"I trust you."

I brought her hand to my lips, brushing it with a light kiss. "Good girl."

She glanced over at me. "And you? Are you upset?"

"About the flight?" I tried to joke, but I knew what was she hinting at. After almost thirty-five years, only a few hours separated me from the Cullens. "I keep thinking about the moment I'll see them again," I admitted. "I wish I could take back the pain I made them experience because of what I've done."

I recalled my phone call to Carlisle, only a few weeks ago. With a single word, he'd given me more than I might ever deserve.

"Son." He had called me that.

Like the merciful father of the prodigal, he hadn't wanted to witness my humiliation. The words I'd prepared to beg him to forgive me remained unspoken. Bella and I had made up our minds that same day: we would go to the United States together, and I would introduce her to the Cullens. Then...then we would see.

I kept caressing Bella's hand, feeling her relax at my touch. Her concern for the flight rapidly faded. I had other concerns that I hoped would fade, too, as the miles fell away. Carlisle had told me how much dangerous it was for us being so close to the Volturi. The Cullens couldn't come and visit us in Italy, since the arrival of an entire coven – especially with gifted vampires such as Alice and Jasper – wouldn't pass unnoticed.

Bella leaned her head against my shoulder. "You went through a long time of darkness," she told me softly. "But I'm sure that they will see also your goodness, your repentance – the hope that shines out of you."

"You gave me that faith." I recalled what Carlisle had hoped for me–that I would find my mate and be healed by her love. He had been right. "You know, for nearly four hundred years Carlisle has never doubted whether God existed in some form or the other. I've listened to him praying for his patients, sometimes. Deep in my heart, I knew that he prayed for me, too. I guess you're the answer to his prayers."

"And for you? What am I for you?"

I lowered my head toward hers. She shivered as I nuzzled her neck, and my kiss glided over her skin, just below her ear. "I'll spend eternity showing you."

* * *

><p><strong>THE END<strong>

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviewers get a little gift.<br>**

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><p><strong>Notes<strong>

"Only those who dare may fly." Luis Sepúlveda. Like in _The __Story __of__ a __Seagull __and __the __Cat __Who __Taught __Her __to __Fly_, by Sepúlveda, our Edward and Bella – lion and lamb – have journeyed a long way to bridge the gap between them. They thank you for having accompanied them.

Many thanks to the wings who made this flight possible: **Camilla10**, **Marlena516**, **Jmolly**, and **Katmom**. You rock!

A Good Liar" is due to be updated during the next weekend (**w.w.w...fanfiction...n.e.t/s/7817651/1/A_Good_Liar**).

On** h.t.t.p.: / / myreadinglounge. blogspot . com **you can find _An Italian Winter_'s extras.

I'm on Twitter (**RaumTweet**).


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